


Cloak & Dagger-An Inquisitor's Tale

by SonyaBlackmane



Series: Cloak & Dagger [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anti-Trespasser, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, F/M, I hate the Trespasser ending, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:36:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 44
Words: 81,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5896609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonyaBlackmane/pseuds/SonyaBlackmane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of my DA:I main character, Ophelia Trevelyan, and her romantic encounters with Warden Blackwall, as she discovers her purpose and decides the fate of all Thedas.</p><p>(For photos and memes associated with Cloak & Dagger go on Instagram and find me! @sonyablackmane, or copy and paste https://www.instagram.com/sonyablackmane/)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Breach

**Author's Note:**

> (Contains spoilers of DA:I main questline, sexual content, and violent content. Story follows canon AND non canon action and dialogue, and places and characters featured in the work are property of Bioware)
> 
> (Chapter one is introductory, so if you would like to start at Ophelia and Blackwall's encounters, skip to Chapter two)
> 
> (I also wanted to mention this is a romance with a rogue human female and Blackwall, and my characters typically have the more feminine voice option, in-game, and this was written from that perspective, but to each their own)

   [Click for photo](https://www.instagram.com/p/BCMX-yvzW1S/)

     The summer was over, that was certain. Not because the snow fell upon the ground, nor because of the harsh wind that made the shudders slam, but because of the feeling that welled within Ophelia's heart. Though she was warm by the fire, and covered in blankets, she could still feel the coldness within.

     A messenger had arrived earlier in the day, one from her noble family, the Trevelyans, of Ostwick. She didn't think they knew where she was hiding. Perhaps they always knew, or perhaps they had paid quite the coin for spies to find her. Either way it mattered little, for there was the letter, laying on her desk, as plain as day. Stamped with her family's seal.

     She hadn't wanted to open it. She cared little for her family's troubles, especially after the scandal at her aunt's last summer ball. She turned away then, but why not now? Why did she have to open that letter? What cause had she, to even be curious as to its contents?

     But it was too late, and when she read the words, her heart stilled. Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry, of which Ophelia's family was loyal to, was to hold a meeting at the Temple of Sacred Ashes to negotiate a treaty of peace between warring factions.

     No doubt it calmed Ophelia's spirit to hear of peace between mages who rebelled against the Circle, and the Templars who were hunting them down, dragging their bloodshed into streets, and homes, tearing families apart. But still...there was a lingering chill running down her spine. A sense of forboding. Leary of something she couldnt explain.

     Ophelia pulled her dark locks from her face, almost in angst, as she read the letter again. Her family expressed the importance of attending, which seemed per usual, but they also expressed how dire it was for her to attend. Did they pride her skill with a blade, by chance that she should have need to use it? Or did they think her expendable, and simply wanted to cast her off as a pawn for the Chantrys use? It was for that reason she did not take up the family mantle and study to become a Cleric.

     She shunned any idea of faith dictating her fate. If she were to serve Andraste in life, she felt it would be by her doing, and not by what the Chantry demanded. But it seemed fruitless to believe that, for as she read that letter a second time, she felt a rush of wind pouring through the window, as if a gentle whisper urged her to go. Regardless of her thoughts on the matter, it seemed clear that she was needed. Not her family, but the Divine herself, needed a rogue and her dagger....

     ...The light flashed, the sound deafening, the walls crumbled around. Everything silenced. Ophelia lay among rubble, trying to get up, finding it hard to move. Her whole body hurt, but yet she willed to get up. Billows of smoke, and she could hardly see, then....Things. Crawling, scurrying toward her. She ran. There was a light up a hill, for which she climbed, reaching toward it, reaching out. A hand reached out to hers, and she tried to grasp it then...nothing.

     Ophelia awoke in darkness, and in chains. There was pain in her left hand, immense pain. The likes of which she had never felt before. How did she get there? Was she not at the Conclave not moments before? Where was the Divine? The explosion....She found no memory of how she got to that cell, and did not have time to dwell on it, for a guard on the other side of the door spoke to someone unseen, bringing her out her of thoughts.

     "The prisoner is awake, Seeker." the guard said. Whom Ophelia could only assume was this Seeker, entered the cell, followed by a woman in a hood, whose face she could not see. Then guards entered, and the group surrounded her. A subtle green light sparked in the darkness, and it was no torch. It came from Ophelia's hand.

     "Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." spoke the Seeker. "The Conclave is destroyed! Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you." that couldn't be. All those people! Dead?

     "You think I'm responsible?" she couldn't remember. Did she do something? That wasn't why she was there...she never would've...

     "Explain this." The Seeker grabbed her hand. More sparks flashed, emanating from her palm.

     "I...can't."

     "What do you mean you can't?!"

     "I don't know what that is! Or how it got there!"

     The Seeker snatched her up. "You're lying!" she snarled.

     The other woman, who had been silent until then, put her hand on the Seeker's shoulder and stilled her.

     "We need her, Cassandra." she spoke. This..Cassandra, backed away, though still heated, her eyes gleaming. Then the other woman turned to Ophelia and spoke.

     "Do you remember what happened? How this began?"

     "I remember...running. Things were chasing me and then..a woman..."

     "A woman?"

     "She reached out to me but then..." Ophelia lost her trail of thought. She willed herself to remember, but by the Grace of Andraste she simply couldn't.

     "Go to the forward camp, Leliana." said Cassandra. "I will take her to the Rift."

     Leliana left the cell, and disappeared as quickly as she appeared, and Cassandra began unchaining Ophelia. This was all very confusing. The Conclave destroyed? And somehow she was responsible? It didn't make sense. And she still couldn't remember.

     "What did happen?" she asked Cassandra.

     "It...will be easier to show you." she said.

     They stepped out into the light...and there it was. The Breach. The whole in the sky that rained down horror from the heavens. Suddenly it was very clear as to why everything felt terribly, horribly wrong. Whatever that was in the sky, Demons were pouring out of it, or so Cassandra explained. Bodies of the fallen were everywhere. It was a mess, but Cassandra was certain that the mark on Ophelia's hand was the answer.

     "We are heading to the Rift. Open the gates!" shouted Cassandra. The men followed order and opened the large gates between Ophelia and the hellish nightmare. Beyond the next hill was a battle ground. Even from where she stood she could hear the shouting, the battle cries...or was it screaming?

     Cassandra and Ophelia pressed to the forward camp, where hopefully questions would be answered. Ophelia had alot of them. Did she really cause this to happen? Did she cause the destruction of the temple, and demons reigning down upon them? Was the mark on her hand the answer, the key to closing this breach?

     As she was in thought, suddenly, the bridge gave way. She and the Seeker fell to the ice below. Before she had time to recover something....something moved. It was underneath them, in the ice. Cassandra drew her sword and readied her shield, as if by instinct. As she drew, what Ophelia could only assume was a demon, appeared in front of them. Cassandra surged forward, thrusting her sword at the enemy. She fought with valor, and Ophelia was impressed. But before they could enjoy that victory, more appeared. One caught the Seeker by surprise and knocked her down, and one was headed for Ophelia.

     She couldn't run. The ice was too slippery and surely would break and she would fall to her death. Then something caught her eye. A crate. Full of supplies that no doubt fell when the bridge collapsed. And in it happened to be a few daggers. It was better than nothing. Ophelia snatched up two, one in each hand, and with fury and grace, lunged at the monster.

     Whether demons could die or not, Ophelia was not sure, but this one was certainly gone, and in her face was a sword.

     "Drop your weapon!" Cassandra demanded.

     "You expect me to follow you through this demon infested muck, and yet remain defenseless?" the question was not meant to sound cynical, but it still came out that way. Cassandra merely sighed.

     "I suppose you are right. You did come willingly after all."

     "Yes, and I would much prefer being chained in that cell right now." the Seeker shook her head.

     "Let us get moving." she said. "We are nearly there now."

     Her eyes lingered on Ophelia, obviously with unasked questions, but what they were facing was more important at the moment than curiosity.

     The watchtower was in ruins. A moment longer and the monsters would have breached defenses. Luckily, Cassandra and Ophelia arrived just in time to provide assistance. The demons were easy enough to dispatch, however, the rift in front of them was still there. A void. A tear in the veil that separated the mortal realm from the Fade, through which the monstrosities came.

     An Apostate, who was fighting with them, grabbed Ophelia's hand.

     "Quickly! Before more come through!" he said. Then he thrust her hand towards the rift. She touched it, and as if it were meant to happen, the magic poured through. Winding, throbbing, pulsating...Then nothing. The rift closed. The mark on her hand had worked. The pain slightly subsided for a moment.

     "Well...at least this thing is good for something." she remarked.

     "I theorized it would be so." said the elf. "I studied the mark and it's effects while you were unconscious."

     "What he means to say is 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept'." said a voice behind them. Ophelia turned to see a rather smug dwarf, with an intimidatingly large crossbow.

     "Varric Tethras, at your service." he said with a smirk.

     "And my name is Solas." said the elf, as he bowed, as if in reverence.

     "I uh...thank you." was all Ophelia could say.

     As she wondered exactly how an Apostate mage came to aid the Chantry, and how a dwarf from Kirkwall ended up in the mix...and how many more oddities she would see, the four of them pressed on to camp.

     The Chantry Clerics at the camp were less than slightly impressed with Ophelia's presence, as of course she was a prisoner, accused of treason. But all that mattered was that this mysterious mark on her hand could close rifts, and perhaps could close the breach in the sky. Whatever answers were waiting for Ophelia, whatever blessing or curse was bestowed upon her, by the Maker's will or not, Ophelia would soon know.

     ...The Temple of Sacred Ashes was merely...ashes. There was nothing left. The burned corpses of the dead were all that remained among those ashes. Ophelia and her new "friends" all shuddered at the sight of the place. This was where they needed to be. This was where they would, hopefully, close the breach.

     An ex Knight-Captain of the Templars awaited them. Cullen, a handsome fellow, covered in muck from fighting off the demons until the Seeker arrived. Sweat matted his blonde hair, but he looked encouraged by their arrival, almost hopeful. All the surviving soldiers did. Cassandra instructed him to help search for survivors as she, Ophelia, Solas, and Varric, went to meet Leliana within the temple's ruins, at the point of origin or the explosion, where the breach tore through with malice.

     Cullens words were brief, but uplifting, as he left with a wounded soldier, escorting him to safety. Then he was gone, and Ophelia turned to face the obstacle.

     She breathed. In and out. Willing her nerves to calm. She prayed for stillness. She prayed for strength. She prayed that she wasn't being stupid for doing this. And she prayed that it would work. There must have been some reason she was there. This had to be it. If she was successful...if she lived...She swore to herself she would never question the Maker again. She'd even hug her parents, if she got to see Ostwick again.

     She left from the balcony in haste, down into what was left of the main hall. There, with no obstruction, she could see the full strength of the breach before her. It was a long way up. As big as it looked before, it looked bigger now. A strange formation of red crystals seemed to grow out of the walls. Varric and Solas wagered that it was Lyrium, though strange it was that it glowed red. Demonic. Unholy.

     The mark on Ophelia's hand throbbed with pain. The closer she stepped toward this giant rift, the more it hurt. Was that a good thing? Or bad? Before she had time to think about it, an image appeared before them.

     A distorted image of the Divine, suspended in the air, ensnared by a demon.

     "Someone! Help me!" the Divine called, in faint, shattered form.

     "What's going on here?" a voice from the void called.

     "That was your voice!" said Cassandra, as she turned to Ophelia. "Most Holy called out to you! So you were there!" she stepped toward Ophelia, but something stopped her.

     "We have an intruder. Kill her." the voice of the demon bellowed.

     The vision disappeared. And out of its wake stepped a monster.

     A Pride demon. A monster, feeding off the power of the breach. It roared, and clambered toward Ophelia, who could only step back in horror.

     "Quick! Disrupt the rift!" Cassandra shouted. "Maybe that will weaken him!"

     In one swift movement, Ophelia leaped past the demon's reach and toward the rift. She reached out, touched it with the mark, and again, as if on its own, the magic worked, and the rift waned from the power, causing the demon to fall to its knees. In unison, the group attacked, as Leliana stood on the ramparts with archers firing arrows. Remaining soldiers surged forward at the weakened monster, and finally, with one quick motion Ophelia leaped...and stabbed it in the face with her daggers.

     The monster vanished, and only the breach remained, so Ophelia, without delay, poured all the will power she could into that mark, and cast it on the breach. The pain was unbearable. The ground seemed to quake, a horrible tremble, before all went dark once more. The last thing Ophelia remembered was praying to the Maker she would survive this, and get to go home.


	2. A Warrior and a Haven

     [Click for photo](https://www.instagram.com/p/BCMYMijzW1t/)

     The breach was stable, however, it remained. A matter to which Ophelia found herself disapointed. She could only conclude that it was the Maker's will, that perhaps her faith was being tested, or that perhaps the mark made no difference at all, and was only a catalyst for which the breach could remain intact. Even the thought of that made no sense to Ophelia. How or why the mark existed, or if it even meant anything at all, and wasn't just some accident that she possessed it.

     She wasn't any closer to home, but instead, sitting at a table in the Chantry at Haven, a quaint village in Ferelden, surrounded by the Seeker, the right hand of the Divine, a Spymaster, the left hand, and ex Templar, and an Antivan diplomat, who found Ophelia's quaint noble background amusing and...useful? Somehow?

     For the mark needed power. And power meant they needed allies. With either rebellious mages, or studious Templars. The Chantry Clerics wanted nothing to do with it. They were still convinced that Ophelia was a criminal, responsible for the Divine's death, with the exception of Mother Giselle, who was in the Hinterlands, near Redcliffe, tending to the refugees of the ongoing war. It seemed the gaping hole in the sky meant little to anyone in Redcliffe, and it only gave stronger cause to what must be done.

     Divine right made it imperative that the Seeker act, with or without Chantry support. And by that same right, it only seemed logical that Ophelia should act with same purpose, or at least it was how it sounded to her. She only wanted to clear her name. Maybe keep the world from ending if she could. There were already rumors spreading that she was the Herald of Andraste, for it was believed that Andraste herself was there at the Conclave, and guided Ophelia out of the Fade. That the mark was her blessing.

     But divine right gave Cassandra cause to act, and nevertheless, the Inquisition was reborn.

      Leliana caught Ophelia out in the hall and pulled her aside. Cassandra and Cullen were still arguing about whether or not to approach the Templars, and poor Josephine was trying not to let them rule out seeking an alliance with the mages. At Mother Giselle's request, they had visited Val Royeux in Orlais, to try once again to seek out those in the Chantry that might still see reason, but to no avail. And upon which the Lord Seeker refused to allow the Templars' assistance. The poor souls were at an impasse that there was no solution for.

     But there was amore pressing matter at hand, as Leliana had word from her spies that the Wardens were missing. Surely they would not disappear at a time like this.

     "We need to know if Grey Wardens could be responsible for all this. For the Divine's death. And I've tracked down a lead. A lone Warden, by the name of Blackwall. He's out in the Hinterlands." Leliana's voice rang with peril. It was obvious that she hoped the Wardens weren't responsible. They had been corrupted in the past, and what if it happened again?

     "Don't you think its odd that all the Wardens have disappeared but him?" Ophelia asked her.

     "I suggest you ask him that yourself, my Lady. Perhaps he'll have the answer we are looking for." Leliana said, as she walk away, back into the shadows.

     Odd for a Warden to be in the Hinterlands. Their encampment was much farther north, in the Anderfells. But at least the weather was nicer in Hinter, and it was far removed from the bitter cold outside Haven. The air still smelled of war, and downtrodden folk were everywhere, every one of them in need of assistance. Ophelia had some tracking skills up her sleeve from her days in Ostwick, hunting criminals and dragging them to justice for a bounty. She always laughed at what her family must have thought of her profession. How dangerous it was, how unladylike.

     But that was all trivial now. This was no common criminal, and this was no bounty hunt. This was a Warden. And Maker only knew what he was doing out there, or if he would listen to reason. Or if he would want to talk at all. Someone approaches, claiming to be some Herald, spitting blasphemy, and wielding daggers. Accusing the Wardens of crimes against the Chantry? Best not to take that approach, Ophelia wagered.

     And surely he would have a blade of his own, and no doubt wave it in her face. Or worse, assume she was a demon as well and try to kill her...or perhaps, he was the demon? You couldn't really tell. With Solas ranting about the Fade and demonic possessions, everyone was scared of one another.

     Ophelia was tired already. All the thoughts running through her head, all the possible outcomes. She felt out of breath and she left the upper lake encampment and proceeded to the location marked on her map. It was in that moment she slightly regretted going alone.

     She hadn't prepared for what came next.

     There, on the bank by the lake, stood a tall, dark haired man, who looked human enough, and who's brow furrowed in disappointment at his conscripts. The boys were probably still in their teens, never fought a day in their life.

     "These are shields, lads!" he barked. "You're not hiding, you're holding! Otherwise it useless!"

     The boys straightened up, and held their shields higher, but still looked afraid. The feeling was not lost on Ophelia. Once upon a time she had been a frightened little girl, one who had never fought, and never wanted to. And she could understand this man could be frightening.

     But he was attractive.

     "Blackwall?" she asked tentatively. "Are you...Warden Blackwall?"

     He turned. His stare was rather cold at first then softened.

     "You're not...How do you know my name? Who sent you?" he demanded and he approached. Ophelia stepped back instinctively.

     Without warning something whizzed through the air. An arrow. In that moment, Blackwall raised his shield, just as the arrow was about to land on Ophelia's face.

     "That's it! Help or get lost! We're dealing with these idiots first!" he scoured.

     Before Ophelia could say a word, bandits advanced on them. Brave souls. They didn't last long. The conscripts flanked Ophelia and Blackwall, and from what she could tell, mostly hid. But at least they didn't drop their swords and run. Within minutes, the bandits were dispatched of, and it was done with.

     Blackwall fought like he talked. Gruffly. But he was strong. And steadfast and...Ophelia had to control her thoughts. She was finding herself attracted to this man. His dark hair, his eyes...Maker's Will! Get a hold of yourself! she thought.

     And as quickly as a dragon could fly he stopped that arrow from hitting her. Without even looking. She wondered...

     Oh Maker's breath. He was a Warden. He could very well be responsible for the Divine's death. Or at least be a part of it. Or know if the Wardens were involved. The fact that the sweat that glistened on his brow was actually alluring shouldn't matter. He needed questioning.

     As Ophelia was in thought, Blackwall had stuck his blade in the dirt and walked over to the bodies of the fallen and knelt.

     "Sorry bastards." he said. Then he got up and walked over to the boys still holding their swords. "Good work, conscripts. Even if this shouldn't have happened, they could've...well, thieves are made, not born. Take back what they stole. Go back to your families. You saved yourselves."

     The young men turned to leave, proud, Ophelia assumed, that they were alive at least.

     "Now, you." he said, as he turned to her. "Why do you know my name?...Who are you?"

     A million things she could've said, perhaps lied, and none would be the wiser. It was only the two of them standing there after all. But she knew she was terrible at lying, and it would only make things worse. No doubt he would point his sword at her this time, or shoot an arrow of his own.

     He seemed calm enough, and only curious as to who she was. So she spoke truth.

     "I know your name because I'm an agent of the Inquisition." she said to him. "And I'm investigating whether or not the disappearance of the Wardens has anything to do with the murder of the Divine."

     "Maker's balls. Wardens and the Divine? That can't...No. You're asking, so you don't really know."

     His brow furrowed once more, and this time, Ophelia wasn't sure why.

     "First off," he started, "I didn't know the Wardens disappeared. But we do that. No more blight, job's done, and Wardens are the first thing forgotten...But one thing I know. No Warden killed the Divine! Our purpose isn't political!"

     "I'm not here to accuse...not yet." Ophelia stated, reassuringly. "I just need information."

     She tensed up, preparing for a fight, but Blackwall's face softened. As if he understood. She just wanted to know what happened. Maybe if she knew...Maybe something in her life would finally matter, or make sense at least.

     "I've no idea where the other Wardens have run off to. Haven't seen them in months." he said, regretfully. "I've been out here alone, recruiting. Of course, not much interest because the Archdemon is a decade dead. Little reason to conscript because there's no blight coming. Though treaties give Wardens the right to take who we need, what we need, when we need it." he gestured toward the mountain nearby, where they could hear faint shouts of continuing fighting. The war raged on beyond where they stood. "These idiots forced this fight. I conscripted their victims. They had to do what I said...so I told them to stand. Next time they won't need me."

     It was honorable, though Ophelia didn't necessarily agree with that reasoning. And it didn't bring her any closer to knowing what happened to the Wardens or the Divine. But at least she knew this man had nothing to do with it. He couldn't have. He didn't seem the type of man to get involved in political intrigue. He was a warrior through and through.

     "Grey Wardens can inspire." he said then. "Make you better than you think you are."

     "That's a good way of seeing it." Ophelia admitted out loud. "But where does that leave us?"

     She walked away then. She felt the conversation over. She had gotten nowhere. But just as she turned to leave he stopped her.

     "Wait...Inquisition, you say? Hold a moment."

     He followed her step and stood in front of her. He was almost unbearably close. She had to look up to make eye contact.

     "The Divine dead and the sky torn open? Days like these, thinking we are absent is just as bad as thinking we're involved. Perhaps you...need a Warden. Perhaps you need...me."

     Ophelia had to hold her breath. Or maybe she...couldn't breathe? Yes. She did need a Warden. If people were to see a Warden joining the fight against demons and closing the breach, perhaps it would give them some ease. But it also meant he would go with her...be around her. He was so....She couldn't find the word for it. And she had more important things to concentrate on but....Yes. She definitely needed him. In several puzzling ways.

     "I...I accept, Warden Blackwall. The...Inquisition welcomes the help."

     "Just Blackwall. That will do fine."


	3. A Candle in the Dark

     [Click for photo](https://www.instagram.com/p/BCMYWfdzW19/)

     Ophelia stepped out of the gates and down the bank to the stables. Herrit, the blacksmith, was nearby, and from his station, Ophelia could hear the steady pounding of metal, and even from some fifty feet away, feel the warmth of the forge. The horses whinnied. Something left them uneasy, though there were no enemies nearby. All was quiet, with the exception of hammers on Serpentstone.

     Perhaps they sensed the Breach. It loomed ever near them in the sky. Perhaps horses sensed it's purpose...the evil. It's unforgiving presence, a beacon of doom upon them all. Horses always did have a knack for sensing things. Fear, anger, ever swinging emotions. Ferelden forders were particularly cunning in that respect. Regardless, the uneasiness in their sounds seemed...disturbing.  
  
     Ophelia found a comfort though. Near the blacksmith's station was a brooding man, named Blackwall. He leaned against a wooden post, watching the sky. She couldn't see his face, but she suspected his expression was one of concern. The threat was real, and up close. A constant reminder in the sky that the world was ending, unless they did something about it...  
  
     ...The Inquisition continued to gather allies. Noble men and women from all parts of Ferelden and Orlais were gathering, hoping to ensnare the support of the Templars, at Cullen's suggestion. Collectively he, Ophelia and the right and left hand of the Divine, followed Josephine's suggestion and attempted to gain the nobles' favor.  
  
     It seemed the best option to reach out to the Templars. The rebel mages were in disarray, and Ophelia didn't trust their unbridled power. Templars were equally as powerful, as they had been trained to combat magic, and would equally have the power to overcharge the mark, and hopefully seal the breach in the sky, once and for all.  
  
     But rumors of red Lyrium corrupting them? It was certainly complicating things. But at least it was a fight Ophelia could handle. It was an enemy she could see. With the mages in Redcliffe, it was different. Ophelia had little understanding of magic...And fighting an enemy that could hide in plain sight? A complication she didn't need.  
  
     It seemed most of the Inquisition's followers agreed, with the exception of Solas. Though he seemed well enough to appreciate Ophelia's forthrightness, he was very much annoyed with Ophelia's mistrust. And she saw so point in persuading him. Making him understand that only he was an Apostate that saw the reality of the Breach and what it stood for, while mages continued their rebellion stupidly, as if the world wasn't falling apart around them.  
  
     Or maybe it was that Ophelia did not share his passion for the Fade, and all its curiosities. The Fade seeping into the world and destroying it? It wasn't exactly something that she could be fascinated with. Every instinct within her screamed to combat it. Not for faith, not for glory or fame...but simply because it needed to be done...  
  
     ...There she stood by the stables, watching a dark haired man stare intently at the breach. She didn't know why, but some part of her felt that maybe Blackwall felt the same. Shared her concerns...though he didn't seem afraid. No wrinkled brow, no sweat, no shaking. No. This man seemed hardened stone on the outside. She couldn't help but let her eyes linger upon him.  
  
     His hair was just to his shoulders, slicked back away from his face, which was covered in a thick, dark beard. Not a touch of grey in his hair, though undoubtedly the years he spent as a Warden had probably aged him. He seemed tired. Did he always have hair on his face? Or was there ever a time in his youth when his face was clean, and a woman could look upon it and admire? Had he ever let a woman admire him?...Or love him, perhaps?

     "Maker, look at it." he said in disbelief as he eyed the sky. "It's easier to ignore when you're far away." He turned to her. His eyes were solemn, as if he'd seen a ghost, or some heartfelt memories touched his mind.

     "Aye, it is." she agreed.  
  
     "And to actually walk out of that...to be that close." he stared at her. She felt it hard to swallow. The reality of those words. To have actually stepped into the Fade. And live to tell the tale. To think it possible.

     "If it hadn't been for Cassandra and her soldiers...I don't know what would have happened."

     "Well, you're alive. And that's what matters. Though...that's not how I've heard the story told." he smirked. "I have to admit, you're not who I thought you would be."

     "What do you mean?"

     "Well, so...human. The claimed 'Herald of Andraste'?...I just didn't expect you to be...this."

     It almost sounded cynical. Offensive. But maybe he didn't mean it that way.  
  
     "Do you have a problem with that? Me being human? Your own kind?"

     "I didn't mean it like that, my lady." he sighed. Ophelia regretted her words. She was the one to offend. Though people were so judgmental those days, so mistrusting. What did he expect her to be? A spirit? Some sort of holy catalyst? Ophelia sighed. So did Blackwall.

     "Foolish of me to say that." he said, lowering his gaze. "It's what you do, and how you do it that's important, I suppose. So tell me, my lady. Where do you fit it in all this?"

     "I just want peace." she said to him, which was truth.

     "Good to hear. A position I'm willing to support...Me? I'll be satisfied so long as we find the bastards that killed the Divine. They owe us some answers, my lady." so odd that a man of his conviction could be so respectable in the same sentence.

     "You're...oddly charming for a man I found wandering in the forest, Blackwall." she said.

     He chuckled. "I always thought I was more odd than charming. But I'll take a compliment when I see one, from a lady. They're hard to come by, these days."

     "Compliments? Or ladies?" again, he laughed. It sounded warm. A welcoming change in the conversation. They were at ease, at least for that moment. Ophelia moved to stand next to him, and also lean against the post. He didn't shy away. Apparently he didn't mind being that close to her, not anymore than she did with him. For a moment, the world melted away.

     "You're unlike anyone I've ever met." he said, rather quietly. Ophelia's heart leaped in her chest. She recognized that tone in his voice. It sounded the same as the voice in her heart. But the warm moment ended, and all too abrupt, when he stood straight and turned to face her, crossing his arms.

     "So, was there something large and heavy you need moved...my lady?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

     "I think that'd be a waste of your particular talents, Warden." she cooed.

     "How so?"

     "You're much better suited to standing in front of dragons while they try to eat you."

     He laughed. It was a comforting sound, like a candle in the darkness, when there was so much of it afoot. Not just with the breach, or the ongoing war. But with the increasing number of people in the world who twisted words. Who bent the truth. It was nice to find a man who was honest, and to to the point with his words. His intent clear. He didn't want the world to end either, clearly. It was a refreshing change from fighting demons, and cloak and dagger politics.

     Ophelia avowed to never introduce this man to her family. People like that...they would just ruin him. With their masks, and lies, wrapped up in scheming, wrapped up in the Game, trying desperately to appeal to betters, and shun common folk. Trying desperately to be like the nobles in Orlais, and less like human beings. People like that...No. She simply couldn't. For once she was glad she couldn't go back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (not all of the dialogue in this segment is canon to a human character encounter with blackwall, though all of it is close to in-game conversation and dialogue options, with minor tweaks, much like chapter two)


	4. Champions of Envy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (contains info from "Champions of the Just" and "In Your Heart Shall Burn" of Dragon Age Inquisition main quest line, though not completely canon, and altered to fit this version of the story)

     Like a shadow, hiding in the dark, Ophelia watched as the demon approached. She was careful, she took her time. There was so much noise, so much shouting from the Templars as they rallied, swords and shields in hand, preparing for the fight. No one noticed how she slipped into the shadows, behind the demon, to make her silent approach. Her footing was flawless. She flowed with grace into the air, leaping upon the wretched monster, stabbing it in the shoulders with sharpened blades, the demon's "blood" spilling out onto the floor...

      ...It had been an interesting day. Upon the Lord Seeker finally agreeing to speak with the Inquisition and its Orlesian allies, immediately something was odd was afoot. He was not at Therinfal Redoubt, like promised, to greet them, though he had invited Ophelia to speak with her personally. Though Sir Barris, a Knight Templar greeted, very willing to address concerns. And he seemed...worried. To say the least.

      Lord Seeker was leading the Templars astray, Barris believed. He knew in his heart that following the Inquisition and destroying the Breach was a just course of action, as did most other Templars. But the Lord Seeker? Blinded. By some unknown thing that would not allow him to see reason. Ophelia convinced Barris that if Templars would support them, they would see to convincing the Lord Seeker to see reason.

      He was nowhere to be seen in the hall, but Knight-Captain Denam was inside and...something...was deeply wrong with him. Something in his face was...frightening.

      He chuckled at Ophelia's approach. "So this is the grand alliance the Inquisition offers?!" he said mockingly, gesturing toward the Orlesian nobles in attend, and to Ophelia herself.

      "Barris..What's wrong with him?" Ophelia asked. The man had no words. Denam's face was distorting as they spoke. As if possessed. It was obvious he was corrupted, but Ophelia had never seen anything like it before. It was unnerving.

      "Where is the Lord Seeker?!" she demanded. Denam only laughed in her face. An evil sneer.

      At that moment, Cassandra and Blackwall looked at each other, as if they knew. As if they had seen this before. Or had a very good guess what was wrong. They had been silent, and watching, until now, and they drew their swords.

      "The Elder One will be pleased that by my hand you die, Herald." Denam said to Ophelia. Then he turned to Barris. "And i'm sure the Lord Seeker will be pleased that I have purged those that question his order!"

      In an instant, corrupted Templars came out of the shadows to take them down. Inquisition men were killed, quickly, before they had a chance to react. Ophelia drew a dagger and threw it at Denam, but missed, and then she turned to see a diplomat, standing right next to her, fall abruptly, as an arrow went clean through his head.

      The fight was on. Ophelia leaped over the desk, remaining dagger in hand, and aimed for Denam's heart. But before she could strike, he grabbed her wrist, and twisted, almost breaking her arm. She cried out, crumpling to her knees. She tried with all her might to not let go of the dagger in her hand. She grabbed his arm with her other hand and tried to press forward, press the dagger into his stomach, but to no avail.

     Just then, a shield bashed him, and he let go of her. She clenched her wrist as Blackwall shoved his sword deep into Denam's chest, pushing up, into his lungs, causing blood to spill out of his mouth. He gasped for air, but still flailed, trying to grab Blackwall, but he couldn't reach. Blackwall spit in his face as he lay in a bloody heap on the floor. Ophelia stood up and nodded in thanks.

      They had to find the Lord Seeker. He had to answer to all of this. The remaining Inquisition soldiers fought their way through the courtyard and up the steps to the northern tower. Barris, who had survived, was in tow. He wanted answers as well...

      ...Which led to the demon. The demon that now faced Ophelia, who had...Ophelia's face. It was the Lord Seeker, a moment before but then...it changed. It was her. but not entirely. Twisted, distorted, almost like the corrupted Templars but much much worse. It wanted her...wanted to be her...It wanted what she had...

      An Envy demon. Inside her head. She heard a voice tell her it was so. She had to get it out. Or get out herself? She was trapped inside her own mind with this...Thing. And the other voice in her head...telling her where to go. Leading her, guiding her, to the way out of this prison in her mind. It said it's name was Cole. That it wanted to help. It sounded like a boy, and its shadow, or shade, an apparition of its self, looked like it could be no more than fifteen. So young. And it urged her on, for the more she discovered in her own mind, the harder it was for the Envy demon to take control. To become her. So she followed. Until she found her way out...back into the light...where a hand reached out to hers. Andraste guide her, she thought to herself.

      The hand was Blackwall's, as he reached out to help her up when she awoke. Everything was chaotic when she awoke. At first she was relieved, and trying to haphazardly explain what happened to Cassandra. Her face was plastered with an obvious look of worry. Surprisingly. But within minutes Ophelia realized there was nothing to celebrate. As the demon hadn't succeeded in "becoming her" it was now barricaded in the main hall, hiding behind a fade barrier of sorts, sending hordes of demons through to advance on the Inquisition.

      Barris was there, and he urged that they find any Templars that weren't corrupted. He had found cashes of lyrium. Red lyrium. Of which Ophelia was not surprised. Lyrium had very strong, and supernatural effects on members of the Order, and this red lyrium was corrupted with demonic power, driving the Templars mad. Finally a threat that Ophelia understood. Corruption that could be fought. Power that could be contained. And this demon...this demon she would slay and be done with.

      She leaped into the shadows...

      ...The Templars gathered at the temple ruins. What once was the Temple of Sacred Ashes was no more. Instead, a breach. A hole...a tear in the Veil. An unholy bridge between the world of Thedas and the Fade. Freed from their corrupt prison, the Templars had gathered there, with the Herald of Andraste and her followers, to seal it permanently.

      They knelt. Solas ordered them to focus on Ophelia, channel their power into her mark. It sparked. Then surged. She lifted her hand toward the Rift, almost touching it with her fingers. For a moment, all was still, not a sound could be heard. Then a rumble. The ground shook...The Templars stood fast. Ophelia prayed.

      Light flashed, resounding in the sky, as if lightening struck. Power surged from the Templars as it surged from Ophelia's hand. She could feel it. It hurt, immensely but...it empowered her. Filled her...Surrounded her. Until she felt as if it would overflow, cause her to lose control. And just when she thought she would...it was gone.

      The breach closed, and the sky closed. What was once an unholy green, was now milky white, serene. The fade was gone. It was...beautiful. There were shouts and cries of joy from the people that had gathered. Ophelia almost wanted to cry herself, but she couldn't move. She simply stared at the white sky.

      Was this really it? Was it really over?

      ...Back at Haven, the celebrations were in full swing. Bonfires were lit, burning brightly, lighting up the night. People danced, and sang, and no one had a care in the world. War was still brewing, rumors were still spreading, politics and propaganda, and they would all need new focus soon, as a few questions were still left unanswered, particularly, who killed the Divine, and all those people at the Conclave. And why was the mark on Ophelia's hand still there? And how did it get there in the first place...and who was this Elder One?

      But for the moment, all was well. Music played, and as Ophelia sat and watched the festivities, a handsome brute approached her, and offered her the drink in his hand.

      "I never got to thank you." Ophelia said to Blackwall, as he sat on the bench beside her.

      "Thank me? For what, fighting demons? The pleasure was all mine, my lady." he smiled.

      "Ah, well, that...and saving my life few times."

      "Heh, I saved your life? Hmm. I thought you saved mine. All the shouting, demons, and slashing, I've lost track of things along the way." he chuckled. "You might have to remind me of this." he took a drink, eyeing her. She felt a little embarrassed, and hoped she wasn't blushing. After all, she was the Herald, was she not? A warrior who slayed demons? Surely she wasn't acting like a trite little girl from Ostwick at that moment. Maker's breath. She took a sip of her drink.

      "Well...How about when you kept Denam from killing me? Or...perhaps, when we first met? I thought you might kill me...the last thing I thought you would do was keep an arrow from hitting my face." Was that the wine talking? Did she really just say that out loud? No matter. Blackwall gave a humbled expression then.

     "That...was an honor. But I never would have killed you. What gave you that idea?"

      "Oh I don't know...maybe, accusing the Wardens of genocide? Something to that degree?" she asked. He laughed. She didn't expect that.

      "I would never have harmed you, never would have dreamed of it. Before...OR after you started questioning me. That's not my way. That's not who I am."

      Their eyes met again, and in that moment, Ophelia knew what she needed right then. She had played it over and over in her head. What running her fingers through his hair would feeling like, holding him...his lips on hers...Could they possibly? Would he want to? Did he feel the same? Perhaps if they could steal away to some place quiet, with no one watching...

      Cassandra's footsteps broke Ophelia's train of thought. Well, at least she wasn't approaching with chains. She had long dismissed Ophelia's possible guilt, and had assured her she would not let the Chantry put her in prison, or worse, see her hanged. Not that it didn't still make Ophelia nervous. The Seeker was a serious and devout woman. Everything she had to say had purpose, and rang with truth. A positive and...negative part of her personality.

      Blackwall respectfully dismissed himself as the Seeker approached, and Cassandra sat down where he had been. 

      "Solas has confirmed. The heavens are yet scarred...but calm. The breach is sealed." she said affirmatively. "There are reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread."

      Ophelia raised her cup to her, then drank a long and deep drink.

      "There are those who would believe that our alliance no longer has a purpose. The Inquisition will need new purpose." Cassandra glanced at Ophelia. "Like seeing to an end to this war that wages on outside Haven's walls, perhaps?"

     Ophelia nodded in agreement.

     "I had hope, lady Trevelyan, that you would...perhaps like to stay? In Haven? With the Inquisition?...Your mark...is still yet useful."

      There was shouting beyond the wall. Ophelia looked up to see torches in the mountains above. Hundreds of them. Then she looked down the steps near the gate to see Cullen and Blackwall grab their swords.

      An Army was marching on Haven.


	5. No Way Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (a cap of "In Your Heart Shall Burn". can be skipped, as is a little lengthy, but does have added non-canon Blackwall/Herald encounter)

     Someone pounded on the doors at Haven's main gate. 

      "If someone could open this I'd appreciate it!" said a male voice, one rather frustrated.

      "It could be a trap." said Blackwall. Varric and Cassandra agreed, nodding their heads. Cullen climbed the battlement to get a better look, holding his shield high, in case arrows struck, or staffs sparked, aimed for his head.

      "Show yourself!" he barked at the unknown person on the other side. 

      There were guttural sounds, sounds of someone struggling, then nothing. Ophelia joined Cullen to see. Her eyes widened. It was a mage. Killing...another mage? Well, at least she knew who was attacking Haven. For whatever reason, rebel mages had marched on them from Redcliffe. And there one stood. Over the body of another.

     This mage was rather refined. Short, neatly trimmed hair, and a goatee. He was dressed rather finely too, though slightly tattered from fighting, and out of breath from...running?

      "Open the gate. And close it behind me." Ophelia said to Cullen. Albeit regretfully, he nodded.

      Ophelia stepped out of the gate to greet the stranger, daggers in hand. She wasn't taking any chances.

      "We must hurry. There will be more coming soon. It was pure luck that I managed to get here first." said the mage. "I came to warn you, but I'm...fashionably late, I'm afraid. I am a bit tired, you'll have to pardon me." he breathed heavy, but his manner had purpose. 

      When the others saw that he was no danger, the came out the gate to see what was going on. Blackwall still had his sword ready, though. Much like him to still be wary.

      "I came to tell you what happened to the mages at Redcliffe." the mage spoke again. "And I don't think you're going to like it. They are under the command of the Venatori. In service to something called the Elder One."

      Ophelia's heart pounded. The Elder One. She had heard that name before. At Therinfall Redoubt. Someone...or something, that sent the Envy demon that was corrupting the Lord Seeker, and the Templars. A demon itself, perhaps? She was soon to find out. The mage pointed at the peak of the valley, and they followed his gaze.

      "The woman is Calpernia. She commands the Venatori. And that...is the Elder One."

      Ophelia saw faintly the woman atop the peak, and next to her....something certainly demonic. A chill went up her spine. It wasn't a man but...it wasn't...she didn't know what it was. 

     Their eyes locked. Hers with the Elder One.

      "I risked my life to get here first." spoke the mage.

      "Cullen, we need a plan, anything." Ophelia said, as fear settled in her heart. She could hear the marching. More mages would be there any moment. She could hear their cries.

      "Haven is no fortress," he said. "If we are to withstand this monster, we must to control the battle. We get out there, and hit that force, use everything we can." he said sternly. Ophelia nodded.

      The mages approached. Inquisition forces held them off the walls for as long as they could, but their magic was powerful. Soon they spilled into Haven, soldiers fighting back as villagers tried to escape. Ophelia did what she could to keep them off the tribuches in order to fire upon the forces pouring through the valley. It was a hard fought battle.

      Ophelia struggled. Her strength was in the shadows, not in a forward fight. But she did what she could. At first she had suspected that the mages attacked Haven's Templar allies, which would have been expected. But a small number of rebels. Not an armada of mages allied with Venatori. Their power was stronger in the numbers they faced.

      And their magic. Was this blood magic? Or very evil, unchecked power, that the Circle tried to stamp out, causing the rebellion in the first place? Ophelia didn't know, and she didn't care. All she knew was that forces overrun them, summoning viscous demons, mercilessly killing everything and everyone.

      They ordered the men to aim the remaining trebuches at the mountain, and Ophelia fought off forces until they could fire. Their first victory, firing into the mountains, causing an avalanche, cascading down, wiping out the majority of the force. That bought them some time to plan an escape. If there was one.

      A shadow was spotted in the sky. Black wings flapped, they could hear the sound from far away. Massive, menacing. It roared and it soared through the air, approaching the village. A...dragon? Surely not. They kept to themselves. Far way from people, and would fight for no man or beast. If not a dragon...what was it?

      "Get everyone to the Chantry. It's the only building that can hold against that...beast!" Cullen shouted. He turned to Ophelia. "At this point...just make them work for it." Ophelia grabbed a child cowering behind a crate. A villager's son. She snatched him up and carried him to the Chantry, as well as Blackwall, Cassandra, Varric, and even Solas, helped as many villagers and wounded soldiers as they could to the Chantry's doors, where Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine waited to help them inside.

      "That...dragon..has taken back any time you may have bought for us." said Cullen to Ophelia, rubbing his eyes. "And it will kill anything and anyone here."

      "Perhaps...not." said a cleric weakly. He lie on the floor nearby, and the helpful mage knelt by him, trying to tend his wound. "There is...a path. You...wouldn't know of it unless..." he coughed blood, "you had taken the Pilgramage...like me."

      "Can you show them the way?" Ophelia pleaded. "Can you get them out?"

      "He may have time but..." said the mage.

      "What are you saying?" asked Blackwall. He knew something was amiss. So did Cassandra. Her eyes widened.

      "I'm saying I would die before I let these people be taken!" said Ophelia angrily. She could do it. She could buy them more time. Perhaps a minute more...Just enough time to get them out.

      "You get these people to safety, and I'll distract that...thing." she said to them. "I'll keep him occupied long enough for you to get out. Then signal me when you are above the treeline in the hills...And I'll bring the mountain down on top of that bastard's head."

      "Wait!" said the mage. "You don't understand! This is what he wants! The Elder One didn't come for the Templars! Or your damned Inquisition! He came for you, Herald! Don't think I don't recognize that sparkling mark on your hand when I see it!...And when he sees it..."

      "Then he will come, and so will that damned dragon of his! If he wants me, let him have me then! If it buys these people some time!" she marched over to the mage and stared him down. "You wanted to help? Then do it! See that they make it out!"...he stared for a moment, then sighed and nodded.

     Ophelia turned and exited the hall, not seeing that she was being followed.

      "You're not doing this on you're own." said Blackwall. Ophelia turned around.

      "Blackwall..."

      "Don't. The others will get those villagers out. The Seeker will make sure of it. But me? I know where my duty is."

     The sound of roaring and flapping interrupted them. The dragon was making another round on the village.

      "Fine!" Ophelia snarled. If he died on her account, she was going to kill him.

      "You can hit me in the afterlife if you like, my lady!" Blackwall shouted to her as they took off running.

      There were still demons running a muck, but the dragon didn't notice them, or the demons. It continued to circle. But as they ran, the demons followed in pursuit as they headed for one of the tribuches. More and more encircled them.

      The tribuche wasn't loaded, and would take some time to fire. Ophelia turned the wheel as Blackwall fought and kept the demons at bay. A few remaining mages summoned more, and cast their spells upon them. Lightening struck, hit Ophelia, blinding her. But yet she turned the wheel. It was almost done when something struck her and knocked her off her feet. Blackwall helped her up, and the two stood back to back as the demons encircled.

     "Still wishing I wasn't here, my lady?" he asked, almost mocking her. She couldn't see it but she could feel him smiling. Wasn't a bad way to go out, really. She...trusted this man. When so few she could trust those days. They hacked and slashed as Blackwall built up his battlecry, a force that deafened, knocking the closer demons back, giving Ophelia another second or two.

      She wrenched hard on the wheel. She felt a snap. It was loaded and locked in, ready for firing, aimed north, at the mountain above Haven.

      "Go!" she shouted. 'Now! I can take them!"

      "Not going to happen!" Blackwall shouted back. That infuriating man and his honor.

      "That's an order, Warden!" she said angrily. He turned to her. No words could describe his expression. But he understood. His eyes though...She could see. She knew what the look in his eyes was saying.

     He turned and retreated. Ophelia looked up to see the dragon swoop down. She jumped out of the way. There was a blast of fire. Then...

     The Elder One. 

      And suddenly Ophelia regretted being there at all.

     She knew from the start that she wouldn't make it out of this. Had known all along, even if she couldn't admit it to herself. There was no way out. Once she fired upon the mountain, it would come down upon Haven, and herself. Whoever this Elder One was, and what he wanted from her...Whatever was happening...it would happen now.

      Out of the fire he stepped, as the dragon landed, all too closely, and roared. His eyes were cold, staring, right through Ophelia's soul. This Elder One approached, and instinctively Ophelia back away, as these demons drew near to her. The Elder One spoke, with a hallow, resounding tone.

      "Pretender! You toy with forces beyond your ken! No more!"

      "What are you?!" Ophelia asked angrily. "Why are you doing this?!" she could feel the heat of the fires. Haven burned...The smell of the smoke...

      "Mortals beg for truth they cannot have!" spoke the demon. "It is beyond what you are...What I was...Know me. Know what you have pretended to be. Exalt..the Elder One. The will that is Corypheus. You WILL kneel!" he proclaimed.

     "This makes no sense!" Ophelia exclaimed. "Let me understand. TELL me why you do this!"

      "Your understanding is not required." the demon deflected. "If you gain it, consider yourself...blessed." In his hand he held an orb. Of which an odd red glow encompassed. "I am here for the Anchor. The process of removing it...begins now."

      He thrust his hand toward her, imbued with power, and in turn her mark burned. It sparked like fire, and suddenly she couldn't control it. She was being pulled toward it. The mark was being pulled toward it. The pain...She cried out.

     "It is your own fault, 'Herald'. You interrupted a ritual years in the planning. And instead of dying...you stole it's purpose." he said, as he pulled her closer, his power trying to rip the mark from her hand. "I have yet to know why you survived...But what marks you as 'touched', what you flail at rifts...I crafted to assault the very Heavens!"

      Ophelia dropped to her knees, but the mark was still there...pulling...tearing...ripping her skin. There was no blood, but it felt like her body was being torn apart.

     "And you used the Anchor to undo my work." he said. "The gall!"

     The demon stepped toward her, grabbed her arm and pulled her up. 

      "I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption! Dead whispers!...For a thousand years I was confused...but no more. I have gathered these forces in our stead, to purge the blight of this world! Beg for your mercy!...For I have seen the throne of the Gods!...And it was empty!"

     He threw her. She landed, hard, pain ripping through her back.

      "The Anchor is permanent...You have spoiled it with your stumbling!" the demon raged. Ophelia stood, albeit roughly, and grabbed a nearby sword regardless. She was closer to the tribuche. Perhaps close enough. Out of the corner of her eye, off in the distance, she could see a flare of red light. A signal. They had made it over the mountain. And she was ready.

      "So be it! I will find another way to give this world the nation...and God, it requires. And you...will die!" he sneered.

      "This won't end here, I assure you!" she shouted at the Elder One. Then she ran. To the tribuche and cut the rope. It fired into the mountain. Snow and ice and rock cascaded down, headed to them quickly. She looked back one more time as she ran, to see the dragon shield the demon from the blast and fly them off, then looked back ahead to see the wave of snow. She jumped past it and the ground gave way...

"That's an order, Warden."


	6. Hearts in the Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (SO TOTALLY NOT CANON....but how it should've went, i think)

     Somehow, by the grace of Andraste, and the Maker's will, Ophelia survived. It seemed like a dream, almost. Crawling out of the cave she fell into, then wandering in the blizzard. For days it seemed. But maybe it had only been hours. It had felt like an eternity.

      She had fallen in the snow, but she could hear voices, familiar voices. Solas had healed her wounds, and Blackwall carried her to the camp, and set her down by the fire. It was warm, comforting, and she fell asleep once more.

      The Inquisition was in shambles. What few survivors remained sat and watched, weary, as Cullen, Cassandra, and Josephine argued for hours on end of what to do. There was nothing to go back to, nowhere to turn ahead, it seemed. But a small comfort. Mother Giselle, who had joined the Inquisition and yet survived, sat by Ophelia's bed, and had hope. Though they would not survive by hope alone, Ophelia was afraid.

      She sat up slowly. She could move again. She had a bit of strength left. But she had nothing to say to the group. And no one had anything to say to her. Though Solas pulled her aside, not to chastise, but to inform.

      In the north, some days travel from them, there lie a keep. One that had withstood the ages. A fortress. A beacon of hope in that dark night ahead. A new haven for the Inquisition to rebuild. It would take time, but as it was likely that the Elder One presumed Ophelia dead, they possibly had the time they needed. And this time, they would be prepared.

      And so they marched to Skyhold.

      Beautiful...and vast. The stone fortress strategically placed in the mountains, built to withstand the strongest foes. Ophelia wagered not even a dragon could breach it. And if a dragon couldn't take the keep then surely they could withstand the Elder One's winged Archdemon.

      They needed supplies, and followers. Allies and soldiers. They needed to safely send word to the Templars, and to loyals in Orlais. And they needed to figure out the Elder One's next move. Leliana was a superb Spymaster, but would no doubt have her hands full with these tasks. Nevertheless, it was inspiring.

      Cullen took inventory of the repairs needed for the keep, and tallied the number of able men. Solas wandered the keep, trying to find the mysterious figure that kept appearing and disappearing, frightening the civilians, whom he described as a benevolent spirit. Varric disappeared, off on some mission, swearing he would come back...Perhaps this was all hard on him?

      Cassandra sulked, emotionally taken by the destruction of Haven. Glad that they made it out, but mournful still. The mage, who tritely introduced himself as Dorian of House Pavus, a bit smugly, took up residence in the keep's library, blowing the dust off old tomes and pouring through them. No doubt searching for some information that might be had on who this Corypheus was.

      And Blackwall...He wanted to meet the Inquisitior on the battlements, as to inspect their fortification. That Inquisitor being Ophelia.

      Everyone agreed that they needed a leader. And everyone agreed that the best leader was the one who was leading the Inquisition already. It was an honor...but frightening. She bore the mark, she faced down an Archdemon to rescue the people of Haven, and she...Well she didn't really know what to think of all of it. But she accepted nonetheless. Someone had to do it.

     She leaned against the stone wall as Blackwall looked out over it. One could see for mile upon mile. Surely they would see a flying demon before it saw them. She hoped. Blackwall pledged aloud that he would not see one more life lost by this Corypheus. Even if he died trying at least.

      He was so handsome. He didn't even know how much he was needed, did he? How much she needed him. His sword, his shield...his heart. Was it the shock of what had happened? Surely it was. It was the only explanation for how she felt about him.

      "Blackwall...I..." she began as she stepped closer to him.

      "I already know what you're going to say. And we can't."

     "What do you mean?" she asked.

      "This." he said. "What I want. What I...think you want...Us. We can't."

      "That sounds...bad." she admitted. She frowned. No point in hiding her frustration now.

      "Please don't make that face." he pleaded. He was torn. "I know what that face means. I don't have to have you tell me to know."

      That made her angry. "Oh really?! You think you know me that well?!" she asked angrily. She shouldn't have said that, she thought.

      "It doesn't matter! You...are Inquisitor! That means something, or have you forgotten? And you've got more important things at hand than...me." he turned around and started to walk away but then stopped. "How I feel for you doesn't matter now."

      "You...you feel...for me?" Ophelia was surprised. In a bad way. Maker's will! He had feelings for her!...She wasn't alone in that! And at the worst time to finally find out, to put it to rest, when he...

      "I do, my lady." he said. Again! With his infuriating respect!

      "Ugh! Stop calling me that!" Ophelia said with anger. "I'm no more a lady than you are a Lord!"  


     "Implying you're a bastard? Not really a child of the Trevelyans of Ostwick, are we?" he asked, folding his arms.

      "No. That was NOT what I was implying!" she punched his arm, as hard as she could. But he only laughed.

      "I was wondering when you were going to do that. I suppose I owed you that at least." he said. Then he stepped closer to her again. Got unbearably close. Then he stared her down and spoke quietly.

      "This argument of ours will draw attention. These people have enough worry without seeing their Inquisitor having a spat." then he walked away. "Meet me at the stables. Later...if you have the time."

      Damn him. Damn him to the Fade! But he was right, wasn't he? They would draw attention, surely, and yes. Ophelia did have a few things she needed to tend to. Josephine had made herself comfortable in the office outside the War Room, and did she not need to speak to her? But she swore, by all that was holy, this would not be the end of this conversation. Even just to spite him, Ophelia silently vowed to have the last say.

      It was some hours later, and getting dark out, when Ophelia could steal away to the stables. All was quiet, for the time being, and the only movement in the dark was the flicker of torches, and the guards as they patrolled the ramparts...and Ophelia's shadow, in the darkness.

      Blackwall had been pacing inside the barn. Ophelia quietly watched him by the door for some time, as she tried to figure out what to say. He hadn't noticed her approach, for she was far too quiet, so she watched. Once more his brow was furrowed, and it fit him handsomely. He scratched the back of his neck as he paced, and she wondered what he was thinking. Did he regret what he said atop the wall? Or was he confused, or infuriated with her words? There was only one way to find out.

      "What disturbs you, Warden?" Ophelia asked calmly. Her words startled him, and he turned and stood upright to face her. As any soldier would face a superior officer. It was unnerving. But his eyes were soft. They almost sparkled in the torch light.

      "I've...been thinking about what you said." he began. "I...think I owe you some answers."

      "What do you mean?" Ophelia asked as she slowly stepped toward him. It bothered her, but she could tell in that moment it bothered him too, and the room suddenly seemed...warmer.

      "I wasn't entirely honest with you earlier." he said quietly. "My reason. For what I said. It...wasn't entirely true. Well...it was. But...that wasn't all of it. There's something you need to know."

      "You can tell me." Ophelia said, and went to place her hand on his arm. Oddly, he didn't shy away. Perhaps he was more at ease, getting it out in the open how he felt about her. And now, with noone watching them. He looked down at her hand, then closed his eyes.

      "I don't know if I can." he said. "It's not something...it's just..." he sighed. "I'm no good at this, you know."

     At this point, being this close to him, touching him, feeling how warm he was, and the muscles under his tunic...She didn't care what he said, as long as he didn't say he only liked men, or something like that. What could it possibly be? What could he possibly say, that he hadn't already.

      "I don't care." she said. She stood up on her toes and moved to kiss him. She had to. She needed to. And she knew he needed it too. But she thought surely he would stop her, still deny her this moment, somehow. He didn't.

      He wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her closer. With the other hand he brushed her cheek. It was almost...endearing. Then he put his hand on her neck, cradling her head as he kissed. By the Maker it was soft. So was his beard. It tickled, only slightly, but the only thing that mattered at that moment were those lips.

      He kissed deeper, held her tighter. It felt glorious. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on, afraid that if she let go, she'd fall to the floor. But he would hold her up, wouldn't he? He would be her pillar. As strong and steady as his shield. 

      The barn grew hot, as if it were midsummer. Sweat dampened her forehead. She breathed heavily. So did he. It would be so simple. To move from where they were standing, to the hay pile in the corner. She could strip him bare, let him take her. She could tell he wanted to. It was what she wanted too. But it wasn't to be so, was it?

      "Maker, we can't. It isn't right." he said, as he pulled away from her. No, she supposed not.  


     "What does it matter?" she asked him, trying not to put her frustration in her voice. "Are we not lucky to even be alive? Shouldn't we be...celebrating that?" he backed away.

      "You're right, but..." he shook his head. "I thought that would be it. I thought that when you faced that demon...that I would never see you again. Now, here you are. Here...we are."

      "And I'm standing right in front of you. I'm...real, Blackwall. Demons and the Fade, and the sky being ripped open? Believing that I may be the Herald, sent to save us all? Or that I could possibly survive what happened at Haven? Yes, we question all that, don't we? But me? I AM real. And I'm right here!"

      'Please, my lady. I didn't mean...Forgive me." he hung his head. What was there to forgive?

      "Just make me understand." she said to him. He sighed.

      "It's...not something I can just tell you. It's something I must show you. But not here. Just...let me know when you are ready tomorrow. Things are quiet for now. I'm sure we can leave at dawn, and no one would miss us for a while. Just...don't tell anyone where we're going. Not yet."

      "Alright. We will leave at dawn then. But what about tonight?"

      "You have your quarters," he gestured to the keep. "And I have mine." he glanced at a cot at the far end of the room. "Best to keep it that way. For now."

"My Lady"


	7. "I'm Not a Lady"...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this chapter is more personal, and is tailored of course to fit my character's backstory. which is mostly what it entails. plus, it gives Blackwall more...ahem, 'screen time', i suppose)

     ...At daybreak, as the sun poured through the Inquisitor's window, she was uneasy. She hadn't slept well at all. Haunting dreams. Of demons. Of the Elder One. Stepping out of the fires at Haven. Everyone at her feet. All of her friends. Dead. Blackwall, dead.

      It was nightmarish. Such the irony that she should wake, feel sunshine, and hear birds chirping. There was a nest out on the balcony. She dared not remove it, no matter the amount of bird shite that could appear. There were infants. Squawking, waiting for their mother to bring them breakfast. Such tiny little things, three by her count. And as long as they were there, at least they were safe.

      Ophelia found Blackwall out by the barn, as was expected. Not another soul was in sight, save for the nightwatchman turning in, and the soldier relieving him of duty. The others were in their tents, enjoying one of the few remaining days to come that they would enjoy such peaceful slumber, for a war would still be coming.

     She had dawned a cloak, so that the soldiers did not see her face. Only the Inquisitor's inner circle knew she was leaving, but not even they knew where she was going. And neither did she. The Storm Coast, that was all she knew. Blackwall promised to tell her more when they got there.

      He was sharpening something at the grindstone. Looked too small to be his sword. She wondered what he was up to.

      "I had Herrit make these for you." he said as he sharpened. "As soon as he got the forge up and running. I figured you'd need new ones. And...I figured these would be more suited to a woman of your stature." he held up the blade, and picked up another to hand to her. They were daggers. Matching too.

     "They're...beautiful." she marveled at them.

      "The hilts are made with Dragonling scales. I kept them on my person. Never had a use for them until now. The scales will stave off most lesser enemies. And just leave the big ones, at least." he smirked.

      "I...thank you." was all Ophelia could say.

      "You're very welcome...my lady. And...no, before you ask. I'm NOT going to let that go, and you can get over it."

      Ophelia sighed, but she said nothing as they saddled the horses and rode out of the keep. In fact, it was several hours before they spoke to one another. A silent ride, through beautiful forests, keeping tucked away from more traveled roads. But Ophelia didn't notice as she was lost in her thoughts.

      "Why is it you have a problem with that?" Blackwall asked, out of nowhere, scaring the hell out of her.

     "A problem with what?" she asked, curious, in turn.

      "The...lady thing. Correct me if I'm wrong but...is that not the proper title for a gentleman to address you by?" he said, almost with sarcasm. As if he knew the answer. "Inquisitor or not?"

      "Well, yes, but, that doesn't mean I enjoy it. Nor does it change what I am to you."

      "Alright. I'll take that. But why? Why do you not enjoy it? You're not the criminal everyone thought you were, but would you prefer to be addressed as that instead?"

      "No. No, I very much prefer being a hero than a criminal. I just..."

      "By the Maker...you...are a woman, aren't you?!" Ophelia glared at him. 

      "I was born with the parts, and they're still there." she said snidely. 

      Blackwall reared his horse to a stop. "Right then. Spill it. Why?" he asked rather bluntly.

      "You don't want to know. It's not important. It...doesn't change anything." she said, hoping it would stop pursuing the topic. But he didn't, though he did have a point.

      "I've promised you answers in the Storm Coast, and answers you'll get. I keep my word, and you know that. But you can't expect me to not have questions of my own." 

      "Alright then." the two of them dismounted to give the sturdy brown brutes a rest. They sat beneath a very old looking tree, of which elfroot grew around, rather excessively. It was shady, and their was a chill in the air, but there was no snow. It had all melted away. It was the start of spring. And even though they weren't, the events at Haven seemed so long ago.

      "So is it your family then? Or...someone else?" he asked after a moment passed.

      "A bit of both. A bit of exhaustion really. And a bit of...I don't know, I've just been...disconnected. I haven't even lived with my family in months. I didn't even know they knew where I was. But they found me, of course. And sent me to the Conclave, to represent them. Like the pawn I was. And but of course I went."

      "Does your family care so little of you, then?"

      "Yes...and no. They care, yes, by the Maker they care. But not about me. About their good name. And they've went too far with it. All gossip, and conjecture though, according to them. They've got their hands in so many pockets back home. I doubt anyone would believe what happened..."

     "That they used you as a pawn?" Blackwall was all ears, hanging onto her every word. She could see it in his eyes, even though he was leaned back against the tree, relaxed, his eyes said it all.

      "No. Not that...you see, when I was fifteen, something...happened. I...never should have said anything." Ophelia got up. She would say no more. She couldn't tell him what happened at her aunt's summer home. It was too shameful.

      "You can't leave me hanging now..." he said, then he grabbed her arm, pulling her down onto his lap. She needed that. It was comforting. It felt safe. It wasn't demons, it wasn't her family...it was him. She took a breath.

      "It will sound stupid."

      "My dear, you never sound stupid. Naive, but never stupid." he said.

     "Alright, I'll just come clean then. I set my aunt on fire."

      Blackwall burst out laughing. "On accident, I hope!" he bellowed as he cackled, almost choking.

      "Yes, on accident, you oaf!" she exclaimed. "I highly doubt the Maker would ever make a hero of someone who did that on purpose!'

      "Well one would hope not, love." he said. Then he pulled her closer to him, hugging her tightly. "So that's your big secret, eh? You set your auntie on fire, and now you're too ashamed to wave in anyone's face? I've heard much worse."

      "I'm sure you have. Oh but that's only part of it. The story gets good when I tell you how I was flogged for half an hour for it. Which was all well and fine until I started bleeding."

      "They wouldn't dare." he was angry then. But he shouldn't have been. It was to be expected when a girl didn't behave like a lady. Or at least she thought it was. It didn't change anything though. She grew further apart from her family, until finally, she just stayed away.

      She was no lady. She was meant to have a blade in her hand, to fight. But no one suspected that did they? Not with someone so small as herself. 

      "It's all well. It's been years now. I've let it all go. Well...I hope I have. After all, I have more important things now, don't I? And they swept it under the rug. That's what they do. That's what I didn't want to be apart of. Yes, when I fight, I fight in the shadows. But I don't want to live that way."

      He looked like he would kiss her, and she prayed he would. No, she prayed for more than that. She prayed he would take her right then, under the trees, even with the horses nearby, watching them. She desperately wanted to be so, but this man's respect for her was getting in the way.

      "I am no lady, Blackwall. I never have been. I've always been a fighter. Like you. A warrior. You, a Warden, who fights. Who snuffs out the darkness. Only I did it by hunting criminals down, and turning them in. But we're not that different."

      "Perhaps." he said. "But perhaps not." he ran his fingers through her hair. "How in Thedas did you get your hair so short like that?" he asked out of nowhere.

      "I like to keep my daggers sharp to cut it." she said with a smile. "That's how I know they're sharp enough."

      They both laughed.


	8. A Warrior's Heart

     It rained, forever it seemed, in the Coast. Day in and day out, the waves would crash, and thunder would roll in the distance. Ophelia and Blackwall were both soaked from it, though not shivering. It wasn't cold, just...wet. And dreary. But beautiful, it was. High atop a hill, they stood, eyeing what was left of an encampment, long forgotten, long left barren.

      Ophelia spotted something in the mud. One could barely see it, sparkling. Metal. A badge of some sort. With the markings of the Wardens, it looked like.

      "This. This is why we are here." Blackwall said, looking at the sky. "This place...Has many memories."

      Ophelia bent down to pick up the object she eyed, wiping the mud off. Blackwall stared at it.

      "The Warden Constable's badge." he said. She handed it to him. 

      "Did you...lose it in battle?" she asked him. He nodded.

     "...Careless of me. Afterall...I did earn it. I shouldn't have let it go so easily." he paced a bit, looking around him. "This...was my life, before I met you. Crumbling ruins...endless battles...death. Not just slaying demons either. But watching men die... killing men...that bled."

      His expression was solemn, and Ophelia understood. Back at Haven, they watched soldiers die, killed many mages. She had never seen so much death in her life, even in her days as a hunter. And they had dispatched bandits together, upon meeting. But something in Blackwall's eyes went much further, much deeper, than that. She had no idea what it could've been, but it looked painful. She wished she could ease it.

      "When this is all over...Is this the life you want, my lady? The life of a Warden, who's only home is a saddle and a horse, and all he has to offer is his sword?" he walked over to her. "His...heart?"

      She met him in the middle, and looked up at him, putting a hand on his face, stroking his shaggy hair.

      "Is this the life YOU want? A life with a woman who's only nobility is her name, and who's only home is a shack in Ostwick, that's probably taken over by bandits by now?" he smiled a little at the corner of his mouth. He touched his forehead to hers...

      ...Back at Skyhold, the Inner Circle waited. Leliana had report for the Inquisitor. She pulled Ophelia aside, before she had the chance to run into anyone else.

      "Varric has returned, Your Worship." she said, in her usual silky tone. "And he's brought someone. He's asked you to meet them on the battlements, when you get a moment. Please be discreet, Inquisitor. If he's brought who I think he has...Cassandra's going to kill him."

      Cassandra was training in the courtyard. When she spotted Ophelia walking past, she waved her over.

      "Inquisitor, if you have a moment...May we speak?" Ophelia walked over to her, joining her as she sat down on a bench by the training dummies. She spoke quietly.

      "I trust that you and the Warden have addressed the...personal issue he had, that you spoke of?" she asked.

      "Yes." Ophelia replied tentatively.

     "And he will be...more focused on the task of the Inquisition, as promised?"

      "...Yes."

      "Or will he be more focused...on the Inquisitor?" Cassandra raised a curious brow.

     "What do you mean, Cassandra?"

      "Don't play me for a fool, Herald. Leliana may be the Spymaster, but I am not without my wit. I see more in this place than most realize." Was she referring to the night in the barn? Could she have known about that? The entire time?

      "Cassandra, it's...not what it looks like..." The Seeker put her hand up, to stop her words.

     "I...understand." she sighed. "In times like these...with such dark days ahead..." she looked off into the distance. "We take solace wherever we may find it." she looked back at Ophelia. "And you...you of all people. With everything you've been through, everything you've seen. Perhaps you deserve it the most."

      She stood up then, and when back to sparring with the wooden post. The conversation clearly over. Perhaps...she was right. She stood up and stretched. And wondered what solace the Seeker found. She was about to find Varric on the battlement, when she was stopped, yet again. This time by Cullen.

     He had much to report. Supply counts were in, people were accounted for, and letters had arrived. He and Josephine had been pouring over everything. Letters from Val Royuex, one was an invitation from a loyal Circle mage, who wanted to meet the Inquisitor in person, in return for pledging her house to the Inquisition. The other, a cryptic message on red cloth, talking of random things like a woman named "Jenny" and arrows, breeches, and someone wanting the Inquisitor dead. And a third message, that had arrived in person, a merc named Krem, who invited Ophelia to see their employer in action. A warrior of the Qun, named Iron Bull.

     And Cole was back. Turned out he was the spirit Solas talked about. Someone caught him hanging around wounded soldiers, and people were frightened of him. Ophelia assured Cullen he meant no harm, that, in fact, he helped her escape the Envy demon that had possessed her. Cullen was doubtful, and believed Cole to be nothing more than a demon himself, but he 'took the Inquisitor's word on it', as he put it. For the time being, Cole would be left alone. It seemed he was helping people anyway...though no one really remembered him afterwords.

      Ophelia was tired. She and Blackwall didn't do much talking on their return to Skyhold. It seemed, for the time, that enough had been said. But it didn't ease her. Not in the slightest. She still had more questions for him. But maybe he didn't want to hear them. Maybe he didn't want to answer. She understood. There were still things about her that he didn't know either. And she didn't want to tell.

      It was best that way. 'Taking solace'. Accepting how things were, until the right time came. Enjoying the little moments, for they wouldn't last long. A darkness was coming. A darkness that, supposedly, Ophelia was responsible for. Because she had "stolen" a mark from a demon, and disrupted his plans. But he wasn't done. He would find some other way to capture Thedas, surely. Reopen the breach, perhaps. And reign down terrors from the Fade upon them once more.

      But then there was Hawke.

     The "Hero of Kirkwall". Walking down the steps to where Ophelia stood, next to Varric. A handsome fellow, he was. A little too dainty, though not as flamboyant as Dorian. But he was a mage though. Ophelia was beginning to think she would have no choice but to start trusting mages. They were certainly interested in her lately. And offering help. She laughed, inside her head. Pretty soon the rebels would turn tail too, and head for Skyhold to beg for mercy. An interesting thought.

      So Hawke had found the Wardens, something Ophelia had no doubt Blackwall would be interested in hearing. And once again, talks of corruption. And a possible link to Corypheus. A link worth investigating. Personally. Upon finishing her conversation, Ophelia headed straight to the War Room, to plot her course of action.

      "There is a Warden in there, looking for you." said Josephine, with a smirk, as Ophelia walked by. Oh Maker, everyone knew about them, didn't they?

      Sure enough, there was Blackwall, bent over the table, looking over the large map that held all of Thedas. He was deep in thought, and only the Maker knew what he was thinking about. She went over to lean against the table, next to him. He looked up at her.

      "Well...there you are." he said, then he leaned in close. "With only the Antivan sitting outside, to stop me from taking you on this table right now."

     Ophelia didn't know what to say. She certainly wasn't expecting him to say that.

      Apparently she was blushing, because he stood up, crossed his arms, and said, "You've never been with a man, have you?"

      "What? I, well I..." she stammered, abashed.

      "Not a real one. Not anything more than some prissy noble boy, eh?" In one quick motion, he walked back over, picked her up, and propped her up on the table. He spread her legs, and pulled her close to him. "This is a lot different, isn't it? No flowers, poetry...playing love songs on a lyre."

      Ophelia could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She was...well she didn't know what she was. She had never felt like this before. Hot...but cold at the same time. Palms sweaty. She was...shaking. But she wasn't scared, was she? No. She wasn't. She was...enamored.

     Blackwall leaned in to kiss her, but this time, it was different. It wasn't some trite kiss from a gentleman. No, this was...something more. Something...deeper. Heated. Sexual. He put her arms around his neck, and kissed deeper, pushing her lips apart, thrusting his tongue in her mouth, slowly and repeatedly. She imagined this was what it would be like to have sex with him. Slow...and deep. Completely ravenous, he was.

     She wanted him, and nothing else in the world mattered. But she also hated him, for he pulled away.

      "I should let you get back to work," he said as he walked away, "And I'm sure you have a lot of work to do...my lady."

      She cursed him, and prayed that he was just as sexually frustrated as she was.

"At The Storm Coast"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (it's getting a little juicier? isn't it?...)


	9. The Abyss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAWKE SPOILERS! BEWARE! PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! PLEASE LOVE ME!

     Ophelia had begun to question her faith the minute the Seeker pulled her out of the ashes at the Conclave. She wondered what it was all for. What it all meant. Was she really the "Herald of Andraste"? She never doubted that she didn't belong in the Chantry...but to doubt who she was...what she stood for. She doubted it now. After Adamant.

      That was where they tracked the Wardens to. And there she stood...well, where she had stood...a moment before.

      Once again, the Elder One's influence was afoot. Hawke suspected that the Wardens were being corrupted by him, and this was evident when they scouted the Western Approach. Ophelia hoped to spare the Wardens, if they weren't responsible for the Divine's death, if they would listen to reason. She owed Blackwall that. He needed answers, and so did she.

      So there they were, with Hawke, and his contact, a "traitorous" exiled Warden named Stroud. They had faced off with the Wardens at Adamant, discovering a plot to use blood magic, supposedly to end this "blight" but they were fooled. Tricked into the Elder One's service. When it failed, when their attack on the fortress interrupted the ritual, the Archdemon returned, with plenty of minions in tow.

      They fought, and tracked the Warden Clarel, who had been chasing Magister Erimond, a Venatori servant of the Elder One. Clarel was teeming with fury at Erimond's treachery, for he had released the Archdemon upon them, when Ophelia had managed to dissuade the Wardens from completing the blood ritual, to his displeasure. Clarel was about to strike her magic upon him, when the demon snatched her up, mangling her corpse, and flinging it down to the stone below.

      The ramparts had given way. Clarel was not yet dead, and in a last attempt to fight the demon away, she cast a spell. Lightning struck all around. Everything crumbled. Everyone fell. Blackwall reached out for Ophelia, but could stop her from falling. There was a flash. An all too familiar, unholy green...

      ...Through the mark, they had somehow entered the Fade.

      It was...frightening. But also...fascinating. It wasn't like the first time she entered the Fade, or was it? She still couldn't remember. And then...was that Divine Justinia? Standing there? In front of her...Was it really her? Regardless, this...spirit...it wanted to help. And help was just what they needed.

     There were memories there. Memories of hers. She needed them. Needed them to find a way out for them. She needed to remember. The Nightmare took her memories. If she got them back she would gain their power. None of it made sense, but it was their way out. And she needed to know.

      Like an unruly vision, a flash, and she was there again it seemed. The temple, the Conclave, and everyone was there...Everyone was alive. For that moment. There was the Divine, captured by...Corypheus! So it was him! He was there!

      "What's going on here?!" she had shouted when she entered the hall.

      "You must run!" cried Justinia. "You must warn them!"

      "Kill the intruder!" barked the demon at his minions. In the distraction, Justinia grabbed the orb and flailed it away from the demon...and Ophelia caught it and...the mark. That's how she got the mark. She remembered.

      So it was all an accident, after all. Some happy accident. Because she read that letter from her family. Because she went to the Conclave to oversee on behalf of her stupid, ignorant relatives...because she happened upon Justinia captured by the Elder One...and stopped the ritual.

     Relentless, all of them. All of those pesky doubts encircling her head. She needed to fight them, she needed to have faith. Believe that it was more than that. That it was the Maker's Will. A gift from Andraste.

      Perhaps that was only what the Nightmare wanted her to see. The Fade was frivolous. Like shimmers in a pond, showing one thing in one way, then another, depending on which way you turned to look at it. The ripples...they spread out, playing so many versions of the scenario in her head. Twisting and turning.

     She saw the grave. Clearly marked. "Here Lies Blackwall. Grey Warden." Like her dreams. Dreams of death, of destruction, filling her with fear...Fear. That was it. The Nightmare was feeding off their fear.

      "We can't be afraid." she said, as she turned to see Hawke, Blackwall, and Stroud, staring at her, as if they'd seen a ghost. "This...demon...feeds off of it. Twisting what we are seeing in the Fade. We can't let it control us."

      "My lady, what...exactly did you see?" said Blackwall, looking her over with concern.

      "It doesn't matter. What matters is that we need to get out of here. We need to get back to Adamant."

      They pressed on...things everywhere. Biting, scratching, clawing at them. Knawing at their hope, but they were near the end. The "spirit" of Justinia, or whatever it was, urged them on, showed them the way. Until they faced this Nightmare in its person.

      Hawke used his magic to create a barrier around them, trying to stave off the evil force they reckoned with. It was little use, for the demon was too powerful. But...the shadows. So much evil, so much...darkness. An easy place to hide. Ophelia became invisible in the shadows, creeping slowly, ever so slowly, as the others distracted the abomination. It was quiet in the dark. Ophelia found she rather liked the dark.

      She struck. Hard and fast, faster than any human could. She ripped through the demon, ripping it right in half. Cutting through it with her blades. Apparently they worked on bigger enemies too, after all. They certainly cut them nicely.

     The cloak of shadows...the dagger in hand. The rogue slayer. The demon dead.

      Ophelia could see the light at the end of the tunnel, but bigger demons awaited. The only way to get through would be to leave someone behind, to fight them off as the others escaped.

     "I volunteer." said Blackwall. Ophelia's heart wrenched. "If it means you get out safely, Inquistitor."

      "No." said Stroud. "You may be a Warden, but your duty is to the Inquisition. You're sworn, are you not? You must protect the Inquisitor. I will stay."

      "You need to rebuild the Wardens, Stroud. They won't last without you. They need guidance." said Hawke. "I should be the one to stay."

      "Oh for fucks sake!" cried Ophelia. "While I'm at it, why don't I volunteer as well!" the men stared at her, in shock, and more concern. "We don't have much time, and if we don't figure this out, we're all staying, whether we want to or not!" she snapped at them.

      "It...is your decision to make, Inquisitor." said Hawke. Demons were closing in, fast. Oh Maker! Was it really up to her? She rubbed her eyes.

      "My lady...say something. Quickly?" said Blackwall. She looked up at them. 

      "Hawke, I...I don't know what-"

      "Tell Varric I said goodbye. I've made my peace. I'll stay."

     "Alright." Ophelia teared up, but Blackwall grabbed her hand. They needed to leave. Now.

      Hawke let loose his magic, drawing the creatures toward him, as they made their escape. It was all a haze. But they made it out...they did make it out...didn't they?...

      ...She was back at Adamant. With a swift motion, as if the most natural thing in the world for her to do, she closed the rift behind her in an instant. Everyone was silenced, in shock, and awe. It was the Herald, returned to them from the depths of despair. So it seemed.

     She convinced the Wardens to stand down. That they were misled, but it wasn't too late to make amends. Regardless of what they would've done, had she not arrived, their crime was not worth more bloodshed. Regardless of what anyone thought of her decision.

      "And you!" she said, as she turned to Erimond, who had been captured, his archdemon returned to the abyss. "You will be tried, and answer for your crimes!" she snarled. And then...The Elder One? He would die, by her hand, when she found him.

"Hawke and Ophelia in the Fade"

"Here, Up is Down."

"She Who Wears the Cloak"


	10. Tell Me Your Secrets

     Though Hawke died a hero, it didn't hurt Varric any less. Ophelia hugged the little man when she told him, whether that hug was warranted or not. He excepted. He left the hall, needed time to himself, time to mourn. Time that Ophelia was more than obliged to give.

      They all needed time.

     They were invited to a party in Orlais. And not just any affair. An invite to the Empress' Winter Palace. And it was hard earned too. There were rumors circulating that someone wanted the empress dead. One rumor was that it was her cousin. Another rumor was that it had to do with demons. Which was always a happy occasion, wasn't it? To think that the Elder One wanted the empress dead, to help send Thedas on a path of chaos? Made sense, at least. Though Ophelia was certain there was more to it than that.

      Ophelia didn't remember the last time she slept. The weeks to come after Adamant, there was much to do. Seek out more allies, build their forces, pursue leads, help their noble allies in Orlais and Ferelden...And if it wasn't the responsibilities keeping her awake, it was her dreams. She didn't want them. The Fade, the demons. The death and destruction they wrought...

      Someone was staring at her as she lay in her bed. A familiar face. Dark eyes, dark hair, a bearded face. It was Blackwall of course. He leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, per usual. The look on his face.

     "I am sorry." he said.

      "It's no matter." she replied to him. She motioned him over, to sit on the bed.

      "No. I owe you an apology. And I don't know where to start." he remained at the door.

      "What do you mean?" she asked, fully awake now, full of curiosity.

      "Before Adamant...the way I acted. In the War Room." she sat up at his words, motioned once more for him to sit down. This time he did.

      "That...that person. That wasn't me. It was a man I've been trying to let go of. To forget. I'm not that man anymore. And I treated you like a child, didn't I?" he sighed. "Maybe...I always have. Maybe, I didn't think you'd understand. You're...well you're younger than me aren't you?" she snickered.

      "I'm not that young, Warden. But how old are you?"

      "Older than I'd like to mention." that made her laugh.

      "I don't know...maybe if you'd let me shave that face of yours, you'd look younger. You know my blades are sharp enough." she reached a hand up to playfully touch his face, but he grabbed her hand, and brought it back down to the bed. 

      "You're braver than me, you know." he said. "What happened...in the Fade. What you saw, what you did. And I...am a coward in turn."

      "No. You aren't. You don't give yourself enough credit." she said, in sincerity.

      "I don't think you understand. There are...a lot of things, that you don't know about me, mistress. Perhaps it's better that way." his eyes saddened. "Perhaps it's...safer. You deserve better. Much better...than me."

      It was her turn to make the move. She moved closer to him and kissed him.

      "I don't care what you think you are. I care what I think you are." she said. "Don't let shimmers from some nightmare cloud your heart."

      He wrapped his arms around her then, gently pulling her closer. And he kissed her back, but softly. Not like before. But like the first time they shared a kiss. It was easy to melt into him. He encompassed her like the softest, yet strongest armor. Shielding her from everything outside in the world. It was nice to know that, even though she needed to be strong for everyone, be their leader, their Herald, she could still allow herself a moment of weakness in this man's arms.

      She let him lower her onto the bed, holding him, hoping she could make him understand, if not by words, then by touch, how much she needed him. Ran her fingers through his hair as they kissed, down his neck, to his tunic. She started to untie it. Damn him if he stopped her. She'd tear him apart. She'd eat him alive.

      No sonnets, or flowers thrown at her, by some noble twit with feathery locks...could ever compare to these moments with this warrior. His body was hard, muscle. His chest was scarred from battle. But his kiss...A different power entirely. Not magic, no enchantment, but...it had power over her that she couldn't resist. He kissed her neck. It drove her mad.

      She wanted to kill him. He stopped kissing and sat up.

      "We...have to stop." he said through heavy breathing. "We...can't do this."

     "Why, by the Maker, not?!" she asked.

     "Because if we continue...I'm going to end up kidnapping you, and taking you far, far away from here. And to hell with Inquisition...I'd never look back." upon his words, Ophelia sat up, and moved to straddle him, before he could leave the bed, holding him tightly so he couldn't escape.

      "Who's to say I won't kidnap you first?" she asked, taunting him.

      "You couldn't. You may be faster...but I'm bigger." he lifted her up off of him, and plopped her down on the bed as he stood. "And...stronger." and so he was right. He didn't even miss a breath, picking her up like that. It was attractive.

      "You...don't get it, do you?" he asked, confused, for some reason. Ophelia sighed.

     "No, I suppose not, Warden. What is there to get, pray tell?"

     "When I pledged myself to the Inquisition, to your cause, I was...pledging myself to you. I made a vow, don't you see? To keep you safe. To be your ally, your friend, your...Well, I'm here."

     Ophelia got up off the bed, and walked over to him. His collar was still undone, from where she had toyed with it, and she could see his chest. It was distracting, but she willed herself to listen as he spoke.

      "And you...The way you touch me...and you flush whenever I touch you, like you're...well..." he stammered, "But you can't be. You're so..."

      "Warden Blackwall," she said to him, in the most serious tone she could muster. "You had better start making sense."

      "Right. Just come clean, eh?" he chuckled. "Like it's that easy?" he sighed. "It's going to sound stupid."

     "Hah! No...Naive...but never stupid, isn't that how you said it?"

      "Yes, it is. Well, you did say you're no lady, after all. You never did answer my question."

     "Which one?" she asked, brimming with curiosity.

      "Have you ever been with a man?"

      Ophelia didn't know what to say. She didn't want to lie to him. But she didn't want to tell him the truth, either. It was...well, it wasn't something she liked to talk about. But no one had ever asked. It seemed silly now, though. Everything they had been through together...She owed him that much.

      "I...well, no. But I..."she sighed. "When I set my aunt on fire at her party, after my father took me out into the yard and flogged me...Well, I went back in. And saw...my father. With my aunt."

      "You're aunt?"

      "Yes. While my mother was in the dining hall, talking to guests, he was...having his sister, in the kitchen. No one was there but them. The servants had gone. I guessed that they knew, and were told to keep quiet. And I...was told to keep quiet..."

      "Maker's balls." he said, taken aback. "You...saw that?" he shook his head. "Why, you're pretty fucked up then, aren't you, love?"

      She turned away from him. All that she said, and that was all he had to say?...But, what did she expect him to say? What would he say when she told him the rest...

     She didn't have to. When she turned back to look at him, trying to read his expression, find the key to the puzzle in his eyes...He bowed, then turned to leave. Small rays of sunlight were pouring through the stained glass facing east. The sunrise. Morning. And they each had their duty to attend to.

"You're faster, but I'm bigger...and stronger."

"Lady Inquisitor"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i depicted in this chapter the sun shining in the east, relative to our sun rising in the east, well, because i dont very well know if the sun in thedas rises in the east but...we have people that know that shite...right? anyway, it makes thedas more relative and...yeah, i'm just not going to say the word relative, ever again after writing all that.)
> 
> (Eww and sorry if you had to picture the awkwardness of walking in on a parent, but it's not like i was going to reveal her, ya know, being taken advantage of. I have a heart. and i have triggers. no one needs them on my account...but still....eww.)
> 
> (and sorry, luvs)


	11. Lift Me Up High

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a note from Sera:
> 
> "Joephine! You'll never believe this shite!  
> I swear I just saw our Quizzie and the Warden  
> having smooches in the barn!  
> Or was that some other tit...not Quiz,  
> some other tit fellow.  
> Shall we wait and see then?  
> If this gets pretty juicy, yeh?"
> 
> scribbled on the note:  
> cartoonish drawing of the Inquisitor,  
> and Warden Blackwall,  
> sharing a...kiss?  
> also heart shapes and Inquisition symbols,  
> I think.
> 
> ~Josephine Montilyet
> 
> p.s. from Sera:
> 
> and tell Lady Herald to let these tits know,  
> that's readin' it,  
> that this part's not part of the other story,  
> the real story, or whatever.

     Sera was an interesting elf. She was the one who sent the message about "Jenny", and breeches, and all that lot. Ophelia had traveled to Val Royeux to investigate, and happened upon her in an alley. She had set up the noble sent to kill the Inquisitor. It was a rather funny tale, and full of nonsense, and intrigue, but one that Ophelia relished, as she had gained an ally, a "friend" of Red Jenny, and so Ophelia gained a friend.

      Vivienne, as well. She was a member of the Circle, and very interested in putting the world back in order, whatever that would mean for them all. And upon meeting her, Ophelia knew she would be useful. She had no choice but to trust her. They needed all the help they could get from Orlais.

     Though their ideologies conflicted, on several levels, they all shared a goal. Stopping the world from being destroyed, whatever way they could. That was the larger picture. The smaller picture was Ophelia, Cassandra, Sera, and Vivienne, sitting at a table in Skyhold's tavern, sharing a drink.

     The rest of the Inner Circle was otherwise occupied, but there the four of them sat, drinking and getting to know one another.

      "So," said Sera suddenly, "Word around the keep is you're playin' hide the weasle with the Ole Warden, Inquisitor." she smirked. Vivienne choked on her drink at the vulgarity.

      "It's...not like that." said Ophelia, rather embarrassed.

      "The Warden is more honorable than that, I am sure." said Cassandra, eyeing Sera sternly. Ophelia took a large gulp. She hadn't spoken to Blackwall in days. When she had returned to Skyhold, after her last adventure, he didn't come to see her. No catching her in the War Room, no sneaking into her quarters. He had stayed away. Perhaps because of honor. Regardless of what she said, still, she had never been with anyone, and he didn't want to...ruin her, she supposed.

     "He knows his duty." said Cassandra, breaking Ophelia's thought. "He knows what is most important, like all of us do."

      "And, what, my dear, is that?" asked Vivienne, in the smoothest, silkiest tone.

      "The mission...of course." Cassandra noted, as if everyone should know that.

      "Why heavens no. It's more than that, my dear Seeker." laughed Viv. "Cassandra...darling, have you never been in love?" the Seeker raised a brow to the question.

      "I don't see why that matters, at a time like this." she answered.

     "But...that IS what matters, right?" asked Sera. "Little things like luv stuff? World endin' an' all that, fightin' monsters, that run around, doin' their monster stuff to people an' such. And here we are, makin' promises to fix it all, to put things back, right?"

     "What?" said the Seeker, as if she heard a foreign language spoken.

      "Here's how it is." Sera waved her arms. "I'M down here, while all you big people are up there, right? Doin' your Heraldin' an' all that shite. But down here...I see all the little things, that the big people miss, like all the little things we'll miss if the world goes away. Like...love, and such...And coin, and drinks too." she giggled.

      It made no sense to Cass, or Viv, she was sure, but Ophelia understood what that dirty blonde was saying. That was what they were fighting for. Wasn't it? So they could continue on? Warring, and fighting and...loving? So that when they lost a loved one, at least they could say they died of old age? ...And not watch that person die in front of them...a grusome, bloody death?

      It was enough for Ophelia to believe. That she fought for love, and that maybe she loved someone. And maybe he loved her back, but maybe...he loved her too much? So much that he pushed her away? Or was she the one to push? Her head was spinning. It was too much to question. Much easier to daze off, as she listened to the other women rant on about it all. She didn't care. About Sera continuing her dirty Blackwall jokes, Cassandra chastising her, Vivienne not knowing whether to laugh, or electrocute them both....

      "My contact has arrived, Inquisitor." spoke Leliana from behind her.

      "The eagle is landinggggg!" Sera wailed, randomly, drunk already. Or was that just the way she was? Leliana cleared her throat. Sera just sat back in her chair and smiled.

"Odd company you keep, Your Worship." stated the Spymaster. Agreed. It was indeed odd. "New information has arrived, regarding Empress Celine's festivities."

      "Ah yes, Spymaster. The...Empress." said Ophelia.

      "You and your escort will be leaving tomorrow, for her palace. If we are to still proceed with this plan. Lead members of the Inquisition will attend, which will include myself, and Cassandra, Cullen, and Josephine of course. Sir Barris will be attending, representing our Templar allies, and...Warden Blackwall will represent as Warden Stroud is otherwise occupied."

      Of course. She had to say his name. It was bad enough that in her drink-filled haze she wanted to go to him, right then, and beg her to take him. She blushed. It was well enough to hide, she passed it off as having too much to drink but...She needed to speak to him.

      Leliana turned to speak to Viv, about Circle related things, when Ophelia got up from the table...

      She found him...whittling something. A rocking horse. Shaped like a pheonix, though a lot less frightening than the real ones. He noticed her entering the barn, and looked up at her.

      "This..uh...is just, something to keep the hands busy." he stated, referring to the rocking horse. She raised a brow. "More pilgrims come from the south every day. Flocking to your banner. And some bring children. Figured they could use something...to take their little minds off of the blight in this world."

      Admirable. And sweet of him to do. This man was..odd company. One minute he was soft, the next...It was like two different minds were circling around in his head. One was the warrior, that fought, and killed things. Barrelling into the enemy in a berzerker rage. The other, a...farmer, perhaps? A man who worked with his hands, to create, to bestow, with gentle heart. And he was passionate. She could see it in his eyes. Feel it in his embrace. Hear it in his battle cries.

      How could she not love him? Even if he confused her at times? And how could she tell him? Make him understand...Let him know that when all was said and done, when their hands were no longer needed for war, that they could still use them with love?

      She had seen enough war, seen enough death. But still she would see more. The chaos that awaited, if the Elder One succeeded. She couldn't let that happen. She sobered up then. She stepped toward him. 

      "You are...very kind, Warden." she said softly. "And...very noble."

     "Does that dissapoint you?" he asked, stepping closer to her, meeting her halfway. "That I would be that way?"

      "No. Not at all...I just..."

      "Don't...say another word. There's something I want to show you." he said tentatively.

      "Another adventure? Perhaps somewhere...dryer than the Coast?" he chuckled at her words.

      "No. Here. At Skyhold." he took her hand, and led her away.

     ...There was a garden, secluded, away from prying eyes. It was beautiful. It had grown over, many years ago, but there was still beauty in it. The wild flowers that grew up around. No one knew they were there.

      "I have to ask again, Trevelyan. Are you sure about this?" he asked, as he held her hands in his, looking down on her, with those soft, but haunted eyes.

      "Sure about what?" she inquired.

      "About us...I want to...No. I...need to know. That this is what you really want." he gingerly caressed her hand with his thumb. "All that I am...is a name. That carries a sword and shield."

      His words were, albeit enigmatic, sincere. "And you," he paused. "You carry the heart. It's...heavy. Would it be too much for you to bear?"

      "I can lift it." was all she could say. He sighed, of relief. Then he pulled her in to kiss her. She didn't need to say more, did she? The answer was right there. They could hold eachother up. They could endure. She wouldn't fight alone, and she wouldn't...be alone. He accepted her, just as she was.

      It felt wonderful, just to stand there, wrapped up in Blackwall's arms, and she clinged to him.  


     "There's one thing I must ask." she said, when she pulled away. "Will you please, at least when we're alone...call me by my name?"

      "Which one? The one you like? Or the one I'd like to use?" he asked.

      "Why do you say it like that?"

      "Because what I'd like to call you...Whether you like it or not, to me, you are my...lady." he stated. "That's how I would have it. Were it up to me...Ophelia."

      As long as he kissed her with those lips, touched her with those battle worn hands of his, he could call her whatever he liked. He picked her up, cupping his hands under her legs, holding her steady, never wavering his step. He walked over to the wall, holding her up against it, kissing her passionately. But he withdrew for a moment, to speak in a hushed, but frantic, almost desperate voice.

      "We...can't do this here." he murmured in her ear, brushing his nose against it. "This wasn't quite what I had in mind." he sounded out of breath...heavy...in need. She could feel his heart pounding through his shirt. It matched her own. "Meet me later, when it's dark." he said, as he put her down. He was lucky she didn't have a dagger. She would've stabbed him then and there, out of frustration.

      "Your quarters? Or mine?" she smirked. "My bed is bigger. Fits a man of your size."

      "I'll be wherever you decide to wait for me, my lady." he said.

"Lift Me Up High"


	12. The Long Kiss Goodnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Inquisitor,
> 
> My Lady, please tell Sera to  
> STOP scribbling on my notes.  
> It's very tiresome. And distracting.  
> And wasting my parchment.
> 
> ~Josephine Montilyet
> 
> (more Sera scribbles)
> 
> Don't be so tight, Josephine!  
> If you're lot weren't so pretty,  
> I'd burn all your papers.  
> But you're cute, and you know it.  
> Now let our Quiz have some fun tonight, eh?  
> Don't tell her I said that.
> 
> ~~Sera

     Ophelia waited, pacing in the dark. No candles lit, just her, and the darkness, alone together, waiting. She was lightly clad, in a tunic that stretched down to her knees. It...wasn't very flattering. But it was all she had...she didn't know how to be...appealing.

      She paced. Counting the seconds. They passed by like hours. Or maybe the hours were in seconds. She couldn't tell...the smell of his shirt, the warmth of his touch...it filled her head. This man loved her...

      ...There he was, climbing up the stair well to stand in the doorway, arms crossed. Looking her over in the shadows, no doubt. Should she light a candle? Should she let him see her? Or stay how she was?

      "I...am not worthy of you, am I?" he asked gently in the dark. She didn't know how well he saw her, but she could see him, plain as day. She knew the shadows, and all their secrets. She could move swiftly, and silently, through them, like fish in a stream. He wore no shirt. His chest was bare. He wore only his trousers, as if he had been turning down for the night, but ran, instead from his bed...perhaps changing his mind...coming to her anyway...even if he didn't want to. He couldn't stay away. She could see the scars on his chest. But not the scars on his heart...not yet.

      "Why do you even ask that?" she implored, slowly moving toward him. She hoped her voice sounded calm, for she was not. Her heart raced.

      "You...are unlike anything I could have imagined you to be." he said. 

      "What did you imagine me to be?" Ophelia stepped closer still, not taking her eyes off his. She didn't want to miss them for a moment.

      "I don't know, something else, though." he cocked his head to the side. "You don't exactly fit the description of...Inquisitor. Much less Herald." he smiled a little.

     "...Describe me then."

      "What? No." he chuckled. "Not going there."

      "I could...command...you to do it." she sneered. He took the bait.

      "Beautiful...flawless. Those are some of the words I'd use. Certainly not an old, grey haired man in Chantry Cleric's robes, I'll tell you that." he was close enough to touch, and just then, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him. "Is that better?"

      "Much better."

      ...He touched his forehead to hers, then they moved closer to the bed. She backed up, and he followed. He kissed her, and lowered her onto the bed. He climbed on top of her, and propped himself up on his elbows, peering at her through the veils of black.

      "When I first saw you, my lady, I knew...that I wasn't going to let you leave without me by your side." he kissed her forehead. "I...can't. I know I can't. I can't leave your side..."

      Words of desperation in the dark. He needed her, he wanted her. And she wasn't going to let him go. Not this time. Not now. Not ever. She kissed him, fiercly, making him almost frantic. She ran her hands slowly down his chest, feeling the hair tickle her fingers. Down his stomach...to his trousers. She slipped her hand under them, feeling...him.

      He couldn't hold back any longer. She drove him mad. She knew it. He slipped his hand down to her leg, sliding up her tunic, running his hand up her thigh. He wanted to feel her too. Then he placed his hand on her. She arched at his touch. She'd never felt anything like it. She...whimpered.

      He groaned at the sound she made, and he pushed further...deeper. With his tongue, and his touch. His body. She liked it. She wanted him to feel that too. She still had her hand down his trousers so she...stroked him. He shuddered in the pleasure of it. Then he slipped his finger inside her and stroked. It hurt, at first, but she didn't care. As long as it was him touching her, and no one else.

      He rocked her, gently, as if already inside of her. She could smell his skin, feel his hot breath when he kissed her neck. And then...the suspense, the apprehension, that had been building between them...finally gave.

      With one arm he still held himself up, and with the other, he moved to remove his trousers, and she helped, wrenching them down. Then he eased himself inside her, and thrust, slowly. Slow, and deep. Is that not how she thought it would be? No. This was more than that, much more. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly as he rocked her, as if he was afraid of her floating away. Maybe she would. Maybe he was the only thing keep her from disappearing in the dark, completely.

     His face buried in her hair...her hands clinging to him, then running up his back, feeling the muscle...the sweat. Clenching her jaw from the eventual pleasure wrought...her toes curling. Her body tingling...feeling as if she could melt...The shadows. The flicker of moonlight through the window...the heat in the room, between them...He just..kept rocking, slowly, never moving too fast, just enough, just deep enough. Her whole body tightened. She was shaking. Overflowing, brimming beyond measure, until she felt that she would burst.

      She cried out, not caring who heard her. She breathed heavily. No. She couldn't breathe. She was...exhausted? So much...pleasure. So much it could make her sick. She had come, at his touch, his movement, his...his everything. She whimpered again. Then he spoke, his voice driving her over the edge. 

      "I've been waiting weeks...to hear those sounds." he said. His voice low, in her ear. that was an ecstasy all of its own accord. She threw her head back, she couldn't take anymore. But she didn't want him to stop. He moved faster now, his heart beating faster. She could feel it.And the faster he moved, the more it excited her. Every muscle in his body tightened. It was his turn to shake, his turn to come, for her. She squeezed him tighter, holding on for dear life. She prayed she would make it through the night. For it would be far from over...

     Sunlight poured through the window. Birds chirped, and Ophelia woke in Blackwall's arms. He was awake. Staring out onto the balcony.

      "Ever think of getting rid of those noisy things?" he asked her, when he saw she was awake and looking at him.

     That night before hand...It had gone on for what seemed hours. Even after he came, he...didn't stop. Neither one of them could. And even when he started to break, sat up to catch his breath, Ophelia had pushed him down onto the bed and climbed atop the wall. She straddled him, and rode him, letting him guide her, move her how he wanted.

      He had begged her to light a candle. He could take it no longer. He wanted to see her...better, he said. So she got up, and lit a candle for the man, and walked back over to the bed. She was naked, and the sight of her drove him quite mad, as if it could get worse. He stood up abruptly, grabbing her, picking her up, kissing her all over. And it would begin again. And again. How many times? Ophelia lost count.

      He would throw her down on the bed, and she would be helpless to fight him. She was faster, but he was bigger, yes? And he used his stength and size against her, toying with her, driving over the edge, every time. And she loved it. In a fight, she knew ways to menuver him, to defeat him, regardless of strength, though she didn't tell him that. But they weren't fighting, were they? Battling, yes, but for what? Neither wanted to give in. Neither wanted to lose.

      Until finally, Ophelia begged him to stop. She could take no more. She was completely exhausted, and he laughed at her. She bit her lip. "Please..." she had pleaded. And finally he listened. He nibbled her ear. Then he curled up behind her, throwing his arm over her and pulling her close. Kissing her back, and shoulder. "Can you tell?" he asked, quietly, "can you tell that I love you?" 

      They drifted to sleep...

      ...But birds kept them awake now. In the early morning. But no, she wasn't getting rid of them. She had grown rather fond of them. She chided him, "They're just birds. They do no harm." He shook his head.

      "So, do you think anyone has noticed where I've been?" he asked.

      "I'm certain that everyone in the hold knows about us, Warden." she replied.

      "Everyone, you say?"

      "Everyone, indeed."

      "How'd you come to that conclusion, love?" she sat up at his question.

      "BIRDS." she said as she giggled. "Lots and lots of birds told me."

"The Long Kiss"


	13. Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this chapter takes place solely within the events of "Wicked eyes and Wicked Hearts", thus the chapter title, but it is rewritten to fit the head-canon of my character, and for attempted realism and, hopefully, plausibility. It may still contain minor spoilers to the quest though)

     Ophelia was tremendously grateful that she wasn't required to wear a fanciful dress to Empress Celine's affair. Instead, she was sensibly clad in attire specifically made by an Orlesian seamstress, for the Inquisition representatives, and for the occasion. It was a grand affair indeed. Nothing like Ophelia had ever seen in the Free Marches. Her wretched aunt would die of shame.

      The Inquisition had been properly addressed upon arrival, and presented with gifts. Inquisition weapons, crafted by Celine's own smiths, specifically for each party member's preference. Ophelia was handed two beautifully crafted daggers, gilded, ornate, bearing their Orlesian craftsmanship, but also the uncanny, and unmistakable mark of the Inquisition. A symbol bearing a sword, who's hilt bore an eye, through which all in Thedas could be seen. Ophelia played that metaphor in her head, and hoped it to be true. She would need eyes everywhere that night. And on all of Thedas. She gave the daggers to a servant, for safe keeping. She preferred to keep Shadow and Shade on her person, red scaled hilts gleaming, a gift from her love.

      Blackwall looked out of place. Though dressed handsomely in Inquisition garment, he still didn't seem to quite fit, surrounded by Orlesian nobles. And he seemed...unnerved. Her heart ached for him. He didn't want to be there, and neither did she. Much rather, she wanted to be out in the wilds with him, slaying demons perhaps. Laying in the grass in Hinter...making love to him, while the world burned around them.

     There were no demons in the Winter Palace, not any that could be seen. No...the demons that plagued Halamshiral were the kind hidden in the hearts of the wicked. The treacherous, the hidden traitors to the crown. And who exactly they were, Ophelia hoped to discover.

      "You look...quite fetching, my lady." said Blackwall, as Ophelia moved to stand next to him by the banister, looking over the rail to those dancing in the ballroom below. 

      "You don't look so bad yourself." she said, trying to hide her flush. She glanced at him. He was looking her over, but trying so hard to hide his interest. Though it was obvious their affair was no longer a secret, this was not the time nor place to make it known to the Court. They fed upon gossip and scandal. They...in their masks, playing the game, using whispers to advantage, hiding blades behind their words. But they played the Game to the death.

      Ophelia hid her fears from Blackwall, her insecurities, and took a breath. She would walk into that ballroom and stand before the Empress, and pretend to be honored to be there. She would smile, and coo, and pretend she had no idea that Celine's cousin, the Grand Duke, suspected treachery against her. A Dalish elf, Ambassador Briala, was rumored to be plotting against her, so he believed. There were also rumors that they were lovers, and perhaps someone in the Court planned to use that to taint Empress Celine's reputation, turn the court against her. 

     She worked tirelessly for peace, apperently, for the empire, but many Orlesians believed that peace meant complacency. A weakness on Celine's part. Whereas the usurper, Duke Gaspard, was favored among Chevalier to have stronger position, being General of the Orlesian army. They followed him, unabashedly, thought being loyal to the crown meant their loyalty should have been to Celine. They believed Gaspard would lead the empire back to glory.

      Ophelia had no doubt that he had an angle. He had been declared rightful heir by the Emperor, upon his death, but by maneuvering on Celine's part, who won over the Counsel of Heralds responsible for handling title disputes, she was declared ruler of the empire instead. There was no question that this was causing conflict in Orlais. And if the Inquisition had any chance at keeping peace, and keeping allies, the dispute should be settled.

     And with Briala in question. What was her angle? And how could Ophelia put this to use?...It had been years it seemed, since she was surrounded by courtiers, servants, putting scandal to rest...

      ...She flashed in her mind to her home in Ostwick. Her cabin in the woods. The cold and snow, where she hid from the world of the court and their game. Then her family...her aunt, her...father...her mother screaming in the next room...so much...

      "What disturbs you, love?" Blackwall asked her, pulling her from her wretched memories.

      "So sweet of you to ask." she said with a smirk. She didn't know what was in store, but surely it would be a long night for them all. "Care to dance, Warden? Get a better view of the spectacle from down there?"

      "Heh," he chuckled. "Maybe later. But I promise to save you one though."

     As she walked away, she looked back to catching him eyeing her backside.

      "You have a...lovely coattail, my lady. I should like to meet your tailor." he quipped.

      Everyone was in place. She met Leliana in the vestibule, to hear the information she had gathered so far. The spymaster leaned against a desk, in a quiet corner, away from everyone. She spoke quietly to Ophelia about their Orlesian Empress, and her obsessions with mysticism. Perhaps that was why she took such a fancy for Briala, aside from inviting her for negotiating. And perhaps it sparked the rumor of an affair. That they were drawn to each other for more than political reasons. And if Briala was getting into Celine's bed, it would give her the edge she needed to plot against the Empress.

      Ophelia wasn't ruling out Gaspard, however, and planned to investigate them both, as she informed Leliana of that. It was a wise decision, noted the spymaster. One they should tread carefully on however. If Gaspard found out they suspected him, without evidence, their standing in court would drop. As would if anyone were to find them snooping around Briala's servants. It had to be planned out carefully. Ophelia wanted to see to it personally, but she would need to take caution. If she disappeared from the party for too long, it would risk gaining the court's approval, thus gaining the Empress' favor, according to Leliana. And they needed Celine's support for the Inquisition. They needed to play the game.

      "This is in your hands, Inquisitor." said Leliana. "How do you wish to go about it? How do you want to play the game?"

     "I will see that it is done." she said. "One person being missing from the party will be less deterring than two, or three, even if that person is the Inquisitor. We can cause a...distraction...perhaps. A display of the Inquisition's talent at melee?"

      "Are you suggesting a spectacle like the Grand Tourney?" Leliana inquired, with eyebrows raised.

      "Goodness no." Ophelia said. "There's enough killing at court with out such displays of bloodshed...No...More like, affectionate displays of fencing, showcasing our talent. At which at the end, the winner will challenge the Inquisitor. Which will give me time to investigate, and when I have evidence..."

      "You can make your grand entrance, and none will think the wiser of your sudden return." said Leliana with a smirk. "Not a bad idea, your worship. You would've made a good Spymaster with that head of yours."

      "Perhaps I would have been one. An eventuality put to a stop at the Conclave." Ophelia said, with a heavy heart. She liked to think that Justinia would have restored her faith in the Chantry as she would have restored everything to order. Everything changed that day, hadn't it? And now that she could remember everything, remember the Divine dying...to save her...the weight of it was...exhausting. She needed relief. And she needed to be done with this...party.

      Leliana shrugged. "You yet live...and who's to say what's in store for us all, Inquisitor?"

     Ophelia mingled with the guests, discreetly passing along the plan to the Inner Circle as she passed, smiling, and bowing, and seeming as gracious as she could. By the Maker, she was no good at this. She half expected someone to see right through her.

     She heard Josephine announce to the court that in honor of the empire, the Inquisition wished to showcase their talent. That was the signal to be ready. Everyone was in position, Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana, strategically placed to seem as if watching the event, though in truth they stood guard, eyes flitting to the Empress, who watched the display with some amusement.

      Blackwall, Cassandra, and Vivienne were waiting, in case of trouble, while Ophelia stole away to the Royal Wing. She entered the garden, though delayed by three of the Empress' advisers, whom in her stead, wished to inform the Inquisitor that the Empress planned to extend her hand to the Inquisition...if Ophelia agreed to deal with her cousin, Gaspard.

     A moment later, she was in a more secluded part of the garden, 'preparing for the challenge', as she had informed a passing guest. When the coast was clear, she climbed the latticework, and snuck into the Empress' quarters, searching for something that would link her to Briala, on a less professional basis.

      There she met...someone. Beautiful, graceful...and awfully mysterious. Ophelia's heart lept. This was it wasn't it? She would get caught snooping around, and be carted to the Empress and charged with the crime? How could she be so careless as to not hear her coming.

      "Well, what do we have here..." the woman spoke, her voice like silk. She approached slowly...alluring...the smell of her perfume, tantalizing. This was no minor court interest. No, she was far too finely dressed. An adviser, perhaps? Intuition proved correct.

      "The fabled Herald of Andraste, in person." she said in a sultry manner. "I am Morrigan. Some would call me Adviser to Empress Celine on the matters of the arcane. And you, Inquisitor, have been snooping haven't you...Hunting something, maybe? Perhaps we hunt the same prey."

      "I don't know. Do we?" Ophelia asked as this Morrigan encircled. She chuckled.

      "You're being coy." she said.

      "I'm being careful. You have...caught me in a rather...interesting position."

      "It appears I have. And a good reason to have care, in a place like this. So allow me to speak first." she crossed her arms. "I recently found, and killed, an unwelcome guest within these halls. An agent of the Venatori."

      Venatori. Those who allied with the Elder One. Corypheus. This was not welcoming news. But more importantly, this woman killed he or she. Did this mean she was an ally? If what she was saying was true? "Why give me this information, Adviser? What have you to gain?" The woman smirked and Ophelia's questions.

      "Everything. As well as do you." she said. "I've been watching you. I know what you're after, but...I need something in return." she pulled a key from her pocket. "Over there, in the drawer, is a locket, one that belongs to...Briala. And here, in my hand, is a key. I found this on the Venatori agent's person. I have no idea where it leads."

      "So you know of Briala and the Empress...intriguing." Ophelia mused.

     "I do. And I haven't the time to investigate. It is not wise to keep too long from Celine's side. Which is why I need you. That locket proves that Empress Celine is in bed with the elf, but I need you to find out why. Whether it proves Briala to be a threat or not, and what you do with that, is up to you. But know that I am not your enemy, Inquisitor. Though I'm sure it's hard to believe when so many around you play the Game."

      Morrigan left the wing, and Ophelia looked at the key in her hand. Then she went over to the dresser, and sure enough, there was the locket, with Dalish inscription, saying "my love". She hated to think that a woman who claimed to love the Empress would also betray her so. But could it be possible? Could it be that Gaspard was right?

      She didn't have long to linger on her thoughts, and headed back to the party. There, she whispered her findings to Cassandra, who urged that she, Blackwall, and Vivienne accompany her, in case of trouble. But they had to be quick, before anyone noticed. The spectacle in the ballroom would be over soon, and Ophelia needed to be there when it was, to make her entrance, and present evidence of an assassin, naming the traitor, and hopefully saving the woman's life if she could.

      They entered the servants wing, where not a soul was in sight. They were cautious nonetheless, and readied their weapons. If more Venatori were lurking, they would be ready for them. The key did lead to Briala's servant's guest room, but what they found within, none of them could ever expect.

     The servants were dead. They were fresh killings, the blood still warm on Ophelia's fingertips. And the window was broken. Whoever it was that killed them, heard her coming, and escaped out that window. They couldn't have gone far. She jumped through it, minding the broken glass, and her followers came in tow, keeping up with her pace.

     They scaled the rooftops. The killer left a poor trail, but a trail regardless. He or she had cut themselves jumping out the window, and she followed the faint trail of blood to the Palace commons. They looked around, not a soul in sight, not a sound to be heard. Then, a scream. They followed the noise. One of the servants escaped the blood bath, and it was she who had been cut, and the killer chasing her. The servant was running back toward them, and as soon as her pursuer was in sight, Ophelia threw her dagger. She didn't miss.

      She had aimed for his leg, and that's where Shadow struck, crippling him. He fell to the ground, hitting the cobblestone pavement hard. He gasped, and grasped for air, as the fall had knocked the wind out of him. Ophelia walked over to him, and snatched him up, shoving Shade in his face, holding it to his throat.

      "Easy, my lady." warned Blackwall. They needed him alive. They needed to know what was going on. Her captive sneered.

      "You are too late, Inquisitor." he spat. "Regardless of what you do to me, you have changed nothing!"

      "Then won't you be so obliged to tell me what's going on!" she snarled. "Who is after Celine?! Who is your employer!"

      "They've been right there, in front of you, the whole time, Herald. But you didn't see, did you? She wears a mask, a beautiful one. And she is already in place. She stands next to the Empress as we speak..." he chuckled. "But can you get there in time?"

     She threw him to the ground, ordered Cassandra and Blackwall to escort him to the Hall, and then ran, back to the ballroom. So the assassin was a woman? But who sent her? Could Gaspard have noticed somehow that they were onto him, and have Briala's servants murdered? No. He would not leave such a trail of blood. He needed the favor of the Court too much, if he were to regain standing with them in order to be named Emperor. 

      She returned to the vestibule overlooking the ballroom, and out of breath, stopped to look over the banister. There was the Empress, watching the affair, which was not quite over. But she was still alive for the moment. The courtyard distraction had failed, and she had arrived in time. Cullen and Sir Barris flanked the Empress diligently, coaching her on Ferelden's rules and rebuttals of melee to the curious Orlersian, though secretly they watched for anyone suspicious. 

     The fair haired ruler of Orlais smiled and laughed at their jokes, as they in turn proved quite the Game players, pretending to be so witty and charming. My they were handsome though, and Celine seemed...flattered by them. There, off to the left, was Briala, looking slightly distraught as she watched Celine mildly flirt with Cullen. She really loved her, didn't she? And Gaspard, who stood to gain everything if Celine fell, looked...nervous. The traitor had to be him.

      Ophelia was just about to descend the stairs when the Spymaster stopped her. She had approached while Ophelia watched the Empress, and Ophelia told her everything. The locket, the key, the interestingly helpful source of Morrigan, the Advisor. Then she told her of the hidden, mysterious woman, that awaited nearby, wearing a mask. Which could have be almost anyone attending the party. She spoke of the assassin, who ruthlessly murdered Briala's servants, either to hide evidence for her, or against her. That part, Ophelia admitted she was still uncertain of.

      "This is all very interesting, Inquisitor. What do you plan to do?" ask Leliana, in an even tone.

      "What would you suggest? How do you think we should play this?"

      "Your mission has been to protect the empress, but...Might I suggest something?" she asked. Ophelia nodded. "Inquisitor, what do we really gain, by sparing her life, and revealing the assassin? Gaspard has an army, one that we could use, if we let the assassin do her job. Gaspard would be named Emporer, as Celine has no named heir, and thus, he would be ruler. You could present the locket, incriminating Briala, and thus gain his favor."

      "Seems a cruel thing to do to the elf."

      "That would imply you think her innocent. What if she is not?...Or...You could inform the court that Gaspard knew this whole time that someone plotted against the Empress, and leave Briala to her secrets. Let her and the Empress gain control. Provided you let the Empress live."

      "Are you implying that I shouldn't, Spymaster? That I should just watch her die, to gain an army?" Ophelia tried to control the anger welling within her. To just let her die? It didn't seem right. Not in the slightest.

      "Celine talks of peace, 'tis true, but will she really bring peace to Orlais in it's current state? And if she is slain, the true culprit will reveal themselves, regardless. Perhaps that was the intention, Inquisitor."

      Leliana's words rang with truth, but in her heart, Ophelia still felt it wrong. There...had to be something else, something more to this. The Venatori were connected to this somehow, and that meant that Corpheus was connected. Which meant that letting the Empress die meant he would have his way. And Ophelia couldn't let that happen.

      "May I ask you something, Leliana?" she nodded. "Do you doubt that I am the Herald of Andraste? Or do you truly believe that me being marked the Conclave was no accident?"

      "My...matters of faith and belief are inconsequential, Inquisitor. I follow you regardless. Why do you ask?"

      "Because I doubt myself every day." Ophelia looked away from her. "I never told anyone the truth of what happened, what I saw, in the Fade. Yes, I reported that Divine Justinia died, to save me. That her death was at the hands of the Elder One's actions, and that it was really she who guided me out of the Fade. But yet...I am called blessed by Andraste, regardless. That doesn't warrant much faith, being rumor. And knowing that what happened...was all just some accident. It weighs on my heart. As I have done nothing to be worthy of the title of Herald."

      "I believe you are blessed, Lady Trevelyan. I have faith in you. And I do not doubt my vote on your leadership. But with or without your doubt, you decide the fate of all Thedas. And you must decide this fate, tonight. Justinia believed in you. For whatever reason, that is reason enough for me."...

      ...Ophelia inhaled, and stepped into the ballroom. All eyes were on her. The famed Herald, the living, breathing, and spoken word of Andraste. That was not her. That was not who she was, was it? Just some holy ambassador, sent to shed light on a darkened people? No. She was a warrior. A slayer of demons. And she preferred the kind she could see. They wanted an entrance? She would damned well give them a good one.

     "Good people of Orlais!" she said loudly. "You have all been misled! There is...a traitor among you!" she signaled for Cassandra and Blackwall to approach, and toss their captive on the floor at her feet. The court looked nervous, and she welled inside. She had yet to reveal all her cards, and smiled inside at their already shocked faces. Morrigan was among them, and a slight smile appeared at the corner of her lips, as if she knew.

      "This traitor has plotted against you all!" boomed Ophelia. "And has worked to try and take from you your beloved Empress!" she watched the crowds reaction, and they played the game well. Some gasped in horror, and others merely looked to each other in confusion. Completely taken back by the Herald's words. Who among them was surprised? And who among them only pretended? It mattered little. Regardless, the royal guards drew their swords, and stood to guard the Empress. Whoever was the culprit would have to act fast, or not act at all.

      Suddenly, there was the sound of a dagger being drawn from it's sheath. The woman lunged at the Empress. It was Grand Duchess Florienne, Duke Gaspard's own sister, who had been standing beside the Empress. Cullen lept, and knocked the blade from her hand, but she ran, and Ophelia and some of the royal guard took after her.

      It was quite the chase, out to the courtyard, where Ventatori soldiers had waited, to rendezvous with the Duchess. It was a hard fight, but a fight won. Ophelia knew that her actions would press the assassin, and draw them out, because her suspicions had been correct, and that agent no doubt worked in Corypheus' stead.

      Later, when the dust settled, and all seemed calm, the Empress pulled Ophelia out on the balcony, and asked to speak to her privately. After her display, it was no doubt Celine believed she was in safe company with the Inquisitor and waved her guards away. It was then, and only then, when she was alone with Celine, that she revealed her cards. She told her of the locket she possessed, and the misled information Gaspard gave her, and the wild goose chase she had been sent on. Celine nodded in understanding, though, she and Ophelia both knew they still had Gaspard to deal with. And the suspect Venatori.

      "I...thank you, Inquisitor, for keeping my secrets, and...for saving my life." said Celine, in what seemed to be a sincere voice. "But what, pray tell, should I do with it? Do you think my cousin means to ally with me? Or no?"

      "I do not think him to be a threat, but he is nonetheless...left responsible for his sister's actions." said Ophelia. "I believe that she was working for another, and that he had nothing to do with it. He would not be so stupid to employ his own sister, connecting him to the crime. But..." she breathed. "It is obvious he may have motives, and they need to be addressed."

      Ophelia made an offer. If Gaspard lent his army to the Inquisition's cause, Celine would not connect him to, nor hold him responsible, for Florienne's treason. Ophelia had all of the evidence she needed to connect him or his sister to the crime, even without Florienne's unwarranted public display. And with Briala's servants dead, and Gaspard suspecting her in the first place, it could be very easily twisted to make it seem as though Gaspard meant to frame her. He had swallowed at those words. And he agreed. And when all had been arranged, Ophelia returned the locket and key to it's rightful owner. Briala would never be mentioned again. And she and Celine could help to make peace.

      A good outcome, Ophelia hoped. Only time would tell. Though no doubt sooner or later an instance like this could, or would happen again. But not now. At least not that night. Ophelia slipped away from the party and met with Morrigan, her unlikely, and unexpected ally. The woman was fascinated by Ophelia's tactics, and thanked her for her discretion. As well as applauded her for her uncanny take at the Game. She had an offer too. To come to Skyhold, join the Inquisition, and act as a median for Celine's interests. Ophelia accepted, and Morrigan excused herself, respectfully, from the Inquisitior's presence.

     She had another visitor. Blackwall caught her out on the balcony, alone. Away from prying eyes. Though it seemed silly, and childish, to still keep playing their own little game, pretending no one knew about them, it was comforting. For at least that was the only game they played. When he was near, she wore no mask, and didn't hide her feelings. He walked over to leaned against the railing beside her.

     "Care to share your thoughts, my lady?" he asked, when he saw her expression.

     "I'm...just tired." she said. He nodded. It was a long night for all of them, particularly her. "Everything that happened...everything I discovered. It makes me wonder. Did I do the right thing?"

      "What do you mean?" his brow furrowed.

      "I never expected to be here, you know? I've fought for a long time to rid myself of places like this, people like this, and yet, here I am. And you know what makes me feel better about it?"

      "What's that?" he asked. She turned to face the door, where, inside she could see courtiers mingling, and Celine and Briala talking to guests, smiling. Only they knew why they smiled.

      "Them." she pointed at them. "Look at them. Trying to make peace. Make the world better. Like I hope to do. That's why I'm here. The only reason I'm here." she turned to look at her Warden, his face was somber. He understood. "To make to make the world a better place, no matter where I came from. Or what...I have come from."

      "You have a good heart." he said, as if he knew, for certain, she did the right thing. "And I believe I owe you something...Would you...care to dance?" he bowed, and stretched out his hand, like the gentleman he was.

      "Of course." she smiled. She grabbed his hand and he spun her around, elegantly and gracefully as any noble at court. He was...talented. He held her close, moved in perfect rhythm. Not what she expected from a man of his background.

      "I didn't know you could dance like this." she said as they moved.

     "I...did once. In another life."


	14. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i would advise not to read past this point unless you have completed the blackwall romance questline, but regardless, if you take a gander at it...it gets...interesting.)

     Back at Skyhold, people seemed at ease. The threat against Celine's life had been dealt with, and they had gained allies in numbers in the west. Celine kept her promise and waited with her army at the Inquisition's disposal, should it be needed, and aided in tracking down information on the Venatori. Leliana had new leads on the subject, and believed that she had an edge that she could work with, a possible way to discover the Elder One's next move, but asked for more time on the matter. They needed to be cautious still. They had no idea what could be hiding up the demon's sleeve.

      The tavern was in a uproar. People drank hearty and laughed, as the warrior Iron Bull showed displays of strength. Dorian remarked on them, laughing as the Qunari picked up a bench with two soldiers still sitting on it, never spilling his drink. Sera tried to shoot an apple off a boy's head, showing off her skill with a bow, but Vivienne stopped her. The woman didn't like such rudimentary places like that tavern, but she and Sera had been growing close as friends. The two laughed at Sera's antics. Cole was sitting quietly above, dangling his legs off the banister, eyeing everyone, silently watching.

      Solas was no where to be found. Said he had some business to attend to. A Dalish elf, named Gwyn, an ally of Briala's, had joined the Inquisition's fight, and Solas had taken quite the interest in her as of late. Ophelia thought it was funny. The elf had his head up so far the Fade's ass it wasn't funny, and she would never have guessed a woman could actually draw his attention away from studying it. But Gwyn did. Beautiful girl. Blonde, with soft eyes.

      Cassandra and Varric sat at a table in the corner, though, discussing Varric's latest book, surprisingly. Ophelia never would have guessed that Cass would have interest in something other than her sword, and her faith in the Chantry. But she did, and it warmed the Inquisitor's heart. She and Varric had been at odds, Cassandra very taken by Varric not revealing Hawke's whereabouts, and pushing him to join the Inquisition sooner. But it seemed that after Hawke sacrificing himself, for Ophelia, Stroud, Blackwall, and the good of all Thedas...that the warrior and the poet had made amends, and bonded in their grief.

     And, of course, Blackwall sat alone at the bar. Eyeing his drink, his brow furrowed for some reason. She hadn't a clue why. It seemed odd that everyone around them should be so...slated, and yet he was...glum? She walked over and sat next to him, propping her elbows on the bar. He offered her a drink and she accepted, but then he was silent once more.

      "You're brooding." she said to him jokingly.

      "I am not." he said. She smiled at that.

     "Oh, yes you are." he smiled a little at her words, but he didn't look at her.

      "Was just thinking...About when we traveled to the Storm Coast together." he said, still staring at his cup. He spoke softly, and no one in the room could hear him but her. "Felt like I could do anything then...When you told me you accepted me for who I am. The life I live...Felt good, hearing that." Indeed it did, Ophelia thought. Felt good that they knew that when all was said and done, they could still stand together, and somehow make things work.

      "Do you want to get out of here?" she asked as she leaned in close, hoping he could see the love in her eyes.

      "By the Maker yes." he replied.

     ...There they were, in the barn, sitting up in the loft. No fluffed pillows, no gilded curtains, only the two of them and torch light. Like the night they shared their first kiss. Maker knew she needed him then, as she did now. He only stared at her, with sadness in his eyes. There was something he wanted to say, but didn't know how to say it. Whatever it was, it could wait. She walked over to him, put a hand to his cheek, and kissed him. And he kissed her back. It was different. It wasn't heated like the one in the War Room, or the night they spent together, but it wasn't like any other they shared either. It was...sad. That was the only thing she could think to describe it. Like something ate at his heart. He pulled away.

      "You should know." he began. "You have to know...I am not worthy of you." Yes he was. He had proved that on more than one occasion, and the reasons were endless. She pulled him close, ran her fingers through his hair.

     "Ophelia...I..." he started, be she hushed him.

     "Maker only knows what tomorrow will bring." she said to him. He sighed.

      "Then, tonight, it will only be the two of us then." he whispered.

      He made love to her. Right there, on the hay. It was...different. As if it were the last time he would see her. She didn't know what to think. His passion, his care, in everything he did. And when they were done, he pulled her in close, and held her. He didn't want to leave that spot, and neither did she. Everything was so quiet. For that moment, everything was at peace. She fell asleep in his arms.

     She awoke some time later. He was gone.

      "Blackwall?" she asked the dark. But no one answered. It was odd. And there, at her side, was the Warden's badge. His badge. he had left it there for her. And there was a letter.

      ~There is little I can say that will ease this pain. Just know that while it hurt for me to leave, it would've hurt more if I stayed...I am deeply sorry.~

      She read the letter again. She couldn't believe it. She got up, and finished dressing herself. Then she searched everywhere in the hold. She couldn't find him. Leliana had passed her in the main hall and inquired what was the matter. She told her Blackwall was missing, and Leliana sent for her scouts to search for him. It was sometime later in the day that one of her scouts approached, as she leaned against the barn door. 

      "The Spymaster has confirmed it. Blackwall is gone." he said.

      "Well of course." Ophelia stated halfheartedly.

      "No. Gone. Gone as in left Ferelden." said the scout. "Here. Perhaps this will help."

      He handed her a piece of parchment.

      "This had been missing from the reports. We found it tucked away in Blackwall's quarters." he said. "I don't know what the Warden's interest in this particular matter is, but it could be a good place to start." Ophelia nodded, and the scout excused himself from conversation.

     The parchment read, "Lieutenant Cyril Mornay, one of the soldiers responsible for the Callier Massacre of 9:37, was captured in Lydes. Like the others who were arrested for their involvement, Mornay insists that he did not know who he was assassinating, and that he was just following the orders of his captain. This captain, Thom Rainier, is still at large. Mornay is to be executed within the week in Val Royeux."

      He went to Val Royeux? But why? What was his interest in this execution? There wasn't much time to ponder, as though the report was recent, a week meant Ophelia had to travel in haste. She immediately readied her horse, without delay, assured that her weapons were properly fashion to her side, and left for the main gate. Cassandra stopped her. She had questions, and Ophelia advised that if she wanted answers, she had to follow her to Val Royeux. And but of course Cassandra wouldn't hear of Ophelia traveling with such light guard, so she sent for Varric, who sent for Solas, who brought his little blonde elf. And when Sera saw that the elfy elves were coming, she wanted to come too. Vivienne advised that it would be most wise for a larger group to travel and Cullen overheard, coming down the steps...

      Soon the entire inner circle was interested in the affair, and left Leliana in charge of the keep in their stead, as they headed for Val Royeux. Leliana offered to stay, more than happy to stay behind and see to affairs at the keep, and send for word if she heard any new information about Corypheus. Ophelia hoped to hell this wasn't a trap, an elaborate ruse of some kind, and the Elder One wasn't there, waiting for her. No doubt he knew that she yet lived, as once again she had thwarted his plans in Hilamsharal. But to take Blackwall from her? That made it personal. And she doubted that the Elder One, some grand mysterious creature, who had no use for her mark, would make it personal any longer. No, she suspected he didn't care at all about her plans and efforts against him. She imagined he only wanted to watch the world burn.

      It rained heavily in Val Royeux. There was no sun, only a grey sky, matching the feeling in Ophelia's heart. She couldn't let go of the thoughts that she clung to. That Blackwall was up to something. Something no good. It worried her. It didn't sound like him, to do something bad, but it wasn't like him to leave her like that either. Not unless it were truly important. She wagered he thought nothing was more important than her. He certainly showed her that. So whatever it was that he was doing, it had to be to protect her.

     There was quite the display in the city square. There, the stage set. The man in question, Cyril Mornay, stood with a noose around his neck, to be hung.

     "Cyril Mornay, for your crimes against Orlais, the murders of General Vincent Callier, Lady Lorette Callier, and their four children, and their retainers..." spoke the Orlesian bailiff, loud enough for the crowd to hear, "You are sentenced to be hanged from the neck until dead," the crowd shouted, roared in approval and angst, sickening, Ophelia thought. "Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

      The man said nothing, and held his head high, ready for his death. He'd said all he needed to say, apparently, and either he was guilty, or the man would die with honor knowing he was innocent.  
"Very well." said the bailiff.

     "Well, this is grim." said Varric. Ophelia agreed. Just then, amidst the shouting, there spoke a voice that was familiar in the crowd. The man stepped up to the gallows. It was Blackwall.

     "Stop!" he said as he took the stage, "This man is innocent of the crimes lay before him!" he said to the crowd, "Orders were given, and this man followed, as any good soldier would. He should not die for that mistake!" he turned to the bailiff.

      "Then find me the man who gave the order!" said the bailiff, and Blackwall turned to him. Ophelia's heart pounded quickly in her chest. "Oh, shit..." she heard Varric mutter under his breath. 

     "Blackwall!" she heard herself shout.

      "No! I am not Blackwall. I never was Blackwall." his words emotional. "Warden Blackwall is dead, and has been for years! I assumed his name to hide, like a coward, from who I really am." 

      "You..." said Mornay as he looked him over. "After all this time..." Blackwall turned to face him.

      "It's over. I'm done hiding." then he turned to face the crowd again, and Ophelia could see his grave expression. "I gave the order. The crime is mine. I...am Thom Rainier."

      Ophelia's heart dropped to her feet.

     ...He let them take him away. Taken to the city's prison. Presumably, to confirm that what he said was to be true, and then...hang him, if found guilty...This man...was a murderer? No. It couldn't be. He was so...Ophelia put the thoughts from her head. She needed to speak to him. She walked the long hall in the dungeon, to the cell at the end, where...Thom Rainier sat inside it. She stood in front of him. His said nothing, at first, and when he finally spoke, Ophelia listened.

      "I didn't take Blackwall's life. I traded his death." he said, as he stared at the damp floor. "He wanted me for the Wardens, but their was an ambush. Darkspawn. He was killed. I took his name to stop the world from losing a good man...But a good man, the man HE was...wouldn't have let another die in his place."

      "Why did you lie to me?" she asked him. He didn't look at her. Perhaps he couldn't.

      "I never meant to lie to you...and when I did, I couldn't take it back. You weren't supposed to find me. You were just supposed to think I was gone. I didn't want you to see me like this."

      "And you thought it better to let me think you left me? Broke my heart?" she asked.

      "Don't you understand?" he stood up and came over to the bars. "I gave the order to kill Lord Callier!" he smashed his hands against the metal. "His entourage! And I LIED to my men about what they were doing!" his actions were full of anger, and sadness. He didn't want it to be like this. "When it came to light...I RAN! Those men, MY men, paid for my treason!" he grabbed the bars. "While I was pretending to be a better man!" he mocked himself. "This...is what I am. A murderer, a traitor...a monster." he sank to the floor. "...Wouldn't you be happier thinking I was a noble man, a Grey Warden...instead of this?...I would have saved you the pain of learning that all you knew about me was a lie...That you loved a lie."

      It was time he knew.

      "I killed him." she said to him. He looked up at her.

     "Killed who?"

     "I killed my...father." she said. His eyes widened. He stood up to face her. "When I caught him with his sister...I...killed him." she stared at the wall, remembering what happened. She wouldn't dare look at this man. "I grabbed a knife from the kitchen table, and drove it into his heart...I would have killed my aunt, but she ran...naked...screaming...covered in blood...right into my mother's arms. My...mother...she wouldn't look at me..." a tear ran down her cheek. She was surprised she had any left to cry about the matter.

      "Maker..." said...Thom.

      "And they covered it up," she said, trying so hard not to cry. "And...then to find out he wasn't even my father...My mother had secrets of her own that she kept. That last time I saw my family, she told me she slept with his brother..." she sniffed. "And how mad I was. Glad he wasn't my father, but mad that I...am still Trevelyan, by blood. And do you know how it sickens me? How rather than let it get to light my mother had married my...real father, in secret, and struck the records from the books? Burned them! So I can't even call myself a bastard and get away from them!" she cried.

      "Why...tell me all of this?" he asked.

      "So that you could understand! So that you could know!..." she inhaled. "So that you could know...that I am not worthy either." she tried to reach out to him, put her hand up, to touch his face...seek some comfort...he moved away from her.

     "No. This changes nothing. You...You need to go...You need to let me go. Let me face my crime...In peace."

      "Not I don't. We had secrets, but the love we had was real, was it not?!" she pleaded.

      "That doesn't change what I have done." he said, once again staring at the floor. "And you...you..." he looked at her. "I should tell the guards what you said to me...What you've done. But I could never do that to you. I don't want to hurt you anymore, before I die. Don't want to sour your good name." he sat back down on the bench in his cell, and he would talk no more. Ophelia tore out of the dungeon in anger. All she had revealed, all of her pain, her anger, her broken heart...It wasn't enough. Had she not sought redemption? Had she not devoted her life to making up for her past? And had she not shown forgiveness, and honesty, as he had shown his true self?

      Maker help her. She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to be here. To have this mark on her hand, to have the fate of the world, in her hand. Her title, her power. But yet it was granted, and she had to believe for a purpose. A way to earn forgiveness, a way to make amends...A way to one day forgive herself.

     And there was a man, hurting. For he had done the same. He took up the mantle, the name of Blackwall, so that a good man wouldn't die. So that he could make amends. Yes, he ran, like a coward, indeed. But it didn't matter now. Not to her. Though there was nothing she could do. Nothing to set things the way they were. To show this man...that she still loved him. Whoever he was. And that at least she had forgiven him, if no one else would.

      "Why would he lie to us?" asked Cullen, who had been waiting for the Inquisitor just outside the dungeon's hall. "We trusted him! I never liked him, thought he was too..." he trailed off. "I trusted him just the same, Inquisitor. Why did he keep all this from us?"

      "He did it to protect me." she said to him. Perhaps he noticed she had been tearful, or heard the tone in her voice. But he seemed to take pity on her then.

      "I can see how much he meant to you. I am sorry, Your Worship...None of us are saints, after all, he did come clean in the end, at least...perhaps there is still hope for him. But what could we do?"

      "I think I may have an idea." said Josephine as she approached. "Perhaps...I can pull some strings. See that he is released to the Inquisition to pass sentence on him. In turn, he would be judged by you, Inquisitor...as is your duty. His fate would then be in your hands."

      "Do it, Josephine. If it can be done."

      ...As requested, only the Inner Circle was present in the main hall at Skyhold, as witness, to the judgement of Thom Rainier. Ophelia normally sat the the Inquisitor's throne to pass judgement on criminals. But not that day. That day, she sat on the steps below the alter, her head in her hands, as they all waited for Rainier to be brought up to the keep from his cell in the lower level.

     She didn't know what she would say. She knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to beg for his forgiveness, and make him understand that she wouldn't give up on him yet. In hopes that he hadn't given up on her. But only he knew what they spoke of in the jail at Val Royeux. Only he knew of her crime. And as she would soon judge him, he would probably be the one to judge her.

      The keep's door opened. Light shown through. So long she lived in shadows, trying to break free of them, trying to step back into the light. To learn the meaning of it all, to save the world if she could, to make things right again. For forgiveness...for love.

      Thom Rainier was now at her feet, though they were facing each other, eye to eye. She wanted it that way. She didn't want to sit above him in that chair. She wanted to be equal, for once. They never had been, had they? He, a supposed Warden, and her a noble "lady", then the Inquisitor, righteously, and he the "knight" that served her. And now, she, a murderer, and he, a traitor. Equals, almost.

     "Thom Rainier," she said calmly, trying not to stutter at saying his real name aloud, "the Inquisition judges you for your crimes against Orlais. What say you? Are you guilty of ordering your men to kill the Callier family?"

      "Yes." he said, to no one's surprise. The Inner Circle was silent. Chomping at the bit with the suspense. Rainier chuckled coldly. "You pulled your noble strings to get me out of Orlais, didn't you? Making your Inquisition no more honorable." there were looks from everyone in the room, but still, no one spoke. They all wanted to hear what Ophelia had to say.

      "Yes, we removed you from Orlais, because the Orlerians were happy to recognize the Inquisition as acting authority on the matter." she said smugly. Which was true, mostly, though without a doubt it took a little convincing on Josephine's part.

      "Let's get to it then." said Rainier. "What's your sentence...Inquisitor?" he said the last part with malice, and Ophelia understood why. Neither one of them felt she deserved that title. She paused, looking into this man's eyes. The eyes she loved. 

      "I'm conscripting you, sir." she said coldly. He cocked his head to the side. She could see Cullen out of the corner of her eye, smirking at her choice of words. "What we all face ahead...what we are up against...I can't do without your skills in battle...So my sentence passed will be that you serve the Inquisition, until your services are no longer needed. Upon which, you will be sent to the Wardens. To take part in their Joining." Rainier stared at her in disbelief. She leaned forward. "It's what Blackwall, the REAL Blackwall, would've wanted...Then, what you do with your life...is up to you."

     She got up and left the hall, and Cassandra went over to remove Rainier's shackles. Not another word was said. She went up to her quarters, flopped on the bed, and screamed into her pillow...

      ...The next morning, she paced. She wore a path in the rug of her bedroom from all the pacing. Should she go to see him? He had the run of the keep again, no shackles, no chains, and was given back his sword and shield...Blackwall's sword and shield, which he had taken reluctantly. He was back in the barn, back to whittling on that toy horse of his, which was nearly finished, painted with bright colors, quite the opposite of how things felt lately.

      Against her better judgement, she left her room, and ventured outside, in search for Thom Rainier. There he was, sure enough, in the same spot he always was when they weren't training, or fighting, or loving...Sitting on a workbench, cloth in hand, wiping excess paint off the rocking horse. He didn't see her, and she was too quiet. She watched him. He still looked the same, still sounded the same, still acted the same, with his serious expressions and deliberate movement. She guessed he finally noticed her, for he spoke.

      "You...didn't have to do that, you know." he said, not looking up. "Probably would've been better to let me die, and be done with it." then he looked up at her. "But you were right. It IS what Blackwall would've wanted, isn't it? To show mercy, to see that someone finished what he started?"

      "That was the plan." she said as she walked over. 

      "What you told me...about yourself. Was it really true?" he stood up. "Or just something you told a dying man, to make him believe he wasn't the only one between us...who had done wrong?" his words weren't full anger, in fact, they were sad.

      "I'm not going to answer that question." she stated.

      "No...I guess not." he hung his head. "But now I understand why you spared the Wardens. Why...you did anything you did." he looked up. "Because you needed to forgive, because...you...need forgiveness." she wanted him to grab her, kiss her, something. Something to let her know he still cared for her. But he didn't. He just stood there and stared at her. Such sadness in his eyes.

      "Yes." she said. She exhaled. "I did."

      "But you didn't need it from me. You needed to forgive yourself. Have you...my lady?"

     And there it was. The answer. The signal. To let her know...Even if she didn't deserve it, she was still his lady. She belonged to him, and though they were heavily weighted, by so much sorrow, and regret...they could still lift each other's hearts.

      "I'm getting there."


	15. Inner Circle~The Seeker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't ready to let go of this story, and Ophelia yet, as I am still working on her playthru in the game, so the following chapters are written to continue getting to know her character, and her relationships with the Inner Circle. They take place after Revelations, and though they are not connected to in game encounters, they are based on in game conversation, character approval, and various other dynamics. May contain info on quests given by Inner Circle members. And, as with all my chapters, they are based on the in-game decisions I have made for Ophelia's playthru. (with the exception of a few non-canon characters added)
> 
> ~Sonya, the Author

     Cassandra eyed Ophelia with a curious look. The two of them had been up in the loft, above the armory, pouring over information the Seeker had found on her Lord Seeker. After they discovered the Envy demon impersonating him, who intended on taking over Ophelia's body, Ophelia's life, they still had yet to discover the whereabouts of the real Lord Seeker. He was still at large. And that couldn't be good, Ophelia thought to herself. To think that the Seekers were in any way connected to the problems they faced. They were missing, and Cassandra was troubled by it. Though it had nothing to do with the question she asked.

     "Why do you doubt yourself, Herald?" she had asked, and Ophelia was taken back by the question.

     "What do you mean?" she inquired.  

     "The...decisions you've made...Though I do not hold it against you for letting Hawke sacrifice himself, and I admire your acts of kindness...Still, I cannot help but question." she sighed. "It is wrong of me to do, I am aware. You are our Inquisitor, Herald. I should not be questioning your leadership." Cass sat down at the table, and so did Ophelia.

     "By all means, Seeker, feel free to  _question._ " Ophelia smirked.

     "Oh, don't say it like that!" said Cass, as she shook her head. "I...I should explain...I see...everything that goes on within these walls. I see how people look at you. They...revere you. And most days you seem so sure. Of yourself, of our cause. Like I do...as if you truly believe you are blessed by Andraste...and yet...There are days when you don't."

     Ophelia nodded. She understood. She did have doubts. That was something she couldn't argue with. But she had plenty of reason to doubt.

     "And what you said to...Thom...as if you  _knew_ , as if you... _understood_. How he felt. I do admire that from you."

     Ophelia chuckled a little. "I don't see where that's something to admire, but...I did understand. He was hurting, Cassandra. He needed someone to forgive him. He needed someone to understand."

     "I can see that. Tell me something, Inquisitor. Tell me what you two spoke of. To make him...believe that you understood. If you will." Ophelia stared at the table. It would be so easy to say that she lied to him, told him some fancied story of her own misfortunes, so that he would think that she wasn't what he thought she was either. But that was no lie. And Cassandra didn't need to hear about it. Cassandra believed she was blessed by Andraste, even though she knew the truth, knew what really happened at the Conclave. She believed wholeheartedly that it was no accident that she had been there, that it was no accident that Justinia gave her life for her, for a purpose. But why? Why, when she was no hero...just a rogue who was paying a debt to the world for forgiveness.

     "I told him...I still love him." she said quietly, as she fiddled with the papers in front of her. Cassandra leaned forward, looking at her with interest.

     "You...love him?" she asked, with only the tone of curiosity. No judgement implied. "I suppose that explains everything, doesn't it?" the Seeker sat back in her chair again, and folded her arms. 

     "When all this is over..." Ophelia looked at her hand. "When this mark is no longer needed...What will you do with your life, Cassandra? Will you go back to your life in the Chantry? Be the new Divine's right hand?"

     Cass sighed. "It's not that simple. The Chantry is in shambles. They have yet to even name the next Divine. I would do my best, but I doubt I could ever serve that person as I served Justinia. And the Chantry would need new focus. But to them, change is compared to blasphemy."

     "You must have loved Justinia very much. She must've been like a mother to you."

     "She was. And now, those are just memories. And now, in this moment, we have the Inquisition. Which brings me to ask that of you, Inquisitor. What will  _you_ do, when this is all over? If, provided, we all live to see what the future holds?" Cass raised a brow, very interested in Ophelia's answer to that question. She couldn't refuse. This woman had become her friend. No longer the woman who stood over her in chains, and not just the woman who followed her orders. No. She could call Cassandra Pentaghast her friend.

     "If I live to see what the future holds," she began, as she gazed out the window, "I hope it begins, and ends, with sunshine in my face." she smiled. Cass nodded in agreement. For a time, they both stared at the sunlight outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> used rich text format for this one, to see how it goes.


	16. Inner Circle~A Magical Lady

     "Sera  _loves_ to hear stories about me...On my life I have no idea why." said Vivienne, smiling from ear to ear. "She and I are so...different, Herald. But she is absolutely adoring." her eyes sparkled.

     They had been up in Viv's loft for the last half hour, lounging and sipping the freshly opened bottle of Orlesian wine that Viv couldn't leave Olrais without. Talking about Sera, and how intriguing she was, for an elf who seemed to despise other elves. Viv explained that it was because she had been raised by humans, common folk. And it was also why it seemed odd that Sera would speak to her. She was well aware of Sera's 'preferences'. She didn't like men, meaning. And she certainly didn't like 'big wigs', as she had put it. But she liked Viv...as a person.

     "Apparently...I'm not like the other 'big wigs'." said Viv. "Like you, my dear, I am an understanding person. Even if I don't agree with her opinion. We share something in common. The need to put things back in their order. Back in their place, but for the better." Ophelia nodded. It was good of her to feel that way.

     "I must ask you something." said Viv. "You and I see eye to eye, about a great many things. But not all of them. What do you think of me?"

     "What do you mean?" surely she was not being like Dorian, and seeking some compliments.

     "Let me put it this way. You...trust me. You have faith in me to assist, in any way I can, to your cause. You, like me, do not trust the unbridled power an unchecked rebel mage may wield. Though...I imagine it must be hard to think the only answer is to chain them. Sera told me that. And she told me something about you. You...don't trust magic, at all. Why is that?"

     Ophelia never thought about that. Well, at least not about how to explain it. No one ever questioned that about her. She simply made a decision to ally with the Templars, rather than mages, because they seemed the more unified group among the two. The mages were in disarray and fighting anyone that did not ally with them. Their war was not just against the Circle, or even the Templars. And now, with Venatori allies, their war was against all Thedas. It seemed like the best decision, considering the circumstances. But no, she didn't trust magic.

     "True. I don't trust magic. Because I've never been given a reason to. All I've ever seen come from power like that...is destruction." Viv raised a brow at her words. "But sometimes, I must trust the person wielding it, Lady Vivienne. And hope that, if my trust has been misplaced, that my fighting skills are better than theirs." Viv smiled.

     "I should love to find that out sometime, Herald." she said coyly, then she took a drink of her wine. "I can't blame you, honestly, for feeling that way. Trust is hard to earn these days. And you, of all people, should have learned that lesson rather hard recently."

     "I assume you refer to Thom Rainier?" It was Ophelia's turn to raise a brow.

     "I do. I was there when he stood on that stage in Val Royeux. When he confessed to his crimes, and to his true identity. And I was there in the hall when you passed sentence upon him. And it's true the two of you had become rather close, is it not?"

     "Yes. It is true." Ophelia looked at her cup. "Too close, I'm afraid."

     "And no doubt that hurt, didn't it Herald? To be lied to by the one you love? I am sorry for that." Viv's eyes were full of pity. "When so few people in this world can say they have felt love for another, and to be betrayed like that."

     She was right. It did hurt. But it hurt him just as much. And now, at that very moment, he was outside, pretending it never happened, pretending that everything she told him was a lie. He needed to see it as a lie. Because he didn't want to see her as anything more than a lady, a true lady, who never did anything wrong. Who always made the right decision. The right choice.

     "Oh but I'm sure he feels the same way. After all, he wanted me to let him die, but I didn't. I made the crueler choice."

     "That man and his honor." Viv shook her head. "Hard for me to believe that a man so honorable could do such cruel things. But no, my dear, you were not cruel. In fact, you were kind. You said that it was...'what the real Blackwall would've wanted'. Those were your words."

     "Yes. He had wanted Rainier to join the Wardens. But he never got the chance. He made the choice instead to live Blackwalls life." Ophelia sighed.

     "He didn't think himself worthy, obviously. Perhaps he wasn't." Viv set her cup on the table. "But, perhaps... _now_ he is."

     Ophelia ran he finger across the rim of her cup. Yes, perhaps now he was. But was she?

     "What about me, Lady Vivienne? Do you think I am worthy?" she asked.

     "Of your title? Or of him?" she asked that as if she knew. Perhaps her magical ways gave her insight. Into Ophelia's heart, and the shadows within. Maybe she could see past the thinly veiled secrets held so preciously within.

     "Both, maybe?" 

     "Let me put it this way, 'oh Lady Herald'..." Ophelia smirked. Viv had been spending too much time with Sera. "I see that look in your eyes, and I know what it means. I've seen it too many times to count. No one knows what the future holds, not even the most gifted seers in Thedas. The world is a shimmer in a pond, and we all see it in a different way. And perhaps your future, my dear, will be nothing like you imagine. Love is a form of magic of it's own, one we will never truly understand. Perhaps the circle that you seek...though not one of mages...will be magical indeed."

      


	17. Inner Circle~The Spirit

     "I don't like what you did to my friend." said Cole.

     "I know, and I'm sorry." Ophelia sighed, with a heavy heart.

     She had... _punched_ Solas. She hadn't been quite sure how it started but they had been arguing. Ever since they first arrived in Haven, so long ago, they had begun to be at odds with one another. Though he believed that closing the Breach had been a better decision, he didn't like how frightened of it Ophelia was. And he didn't agree with the decisions she made as Inquisitor. Perhaps he would have preferred that she ogle him with soft eyes as he spoke of dream-traveling in the Fade. Or perhaps he despised that she wasn't an elf. She wasn't sure, but she had known something was amiss when she passed him in the keep.

     She was certain it had nothing to do with her though. That he was only taking his anger, frustration, or fear, out on her. And when she accused him of being too obsessed with the Fade, he deflected. He lashed out at her personally, said vicious things about her in regards to Blackwall. His words filled with venom, and so she...hit him. Not hard, though hard enough for him to get the point. And they hadn't spoken since.

    Odd things had been going on around the keep...Things disappearing, a whole crate of daggers, and someone had left apple peelings on window sills. Ophelia knew exactly who the culprit had been. The spirit named Cole, who had been inside her head, and helped her escape the clutches of an Envy demon. She found him in the attic at the tavern, sitting on the railing, feet dangling, and humming a sad tune of some far away time or place. She climbed up to sit next to him, and listened when he spoke.

    "But I still like you, though." he said. Then he leaned over to lay his head on her shoulder. He whispered, "Broken families, broken dreams, and life snuffed out too early...walks with heavy heart and heavy burden...nothing she can do...nothing she can say...wants to hug him, wants to say something nice..."

     He had done this before, many times. He could...feel someone's thoughts. He could feel their pain, their memories, and he used them to help. Like 'hiding daggers because they hurt people', or 'placing apples on the window to feed the spiders, because spiders helped the healers ease the pain'. Things like that. And he could ease suffering, and no one would remember him. But he never did that to her. Never changed things around in her mind. Never tried to take away the doubt. Or perhaps he had, and she just couldn't remember. Perhaps the mark, or something else, kept her from changing. Or perhaps whatever he saw when he was inside her head...

    "Who's thoughts are those, Cole? Or are they your own?" she asked him.

    "They...are yours." he said. "I will hug you back, if that is what you need. If that will...help." his words were soft.

     She hugged him. It was...strange. He felt so much like a person, but just the same, he didn't. Like he was there, but he wasn't. Or was it a dream? A dream that in a moment, she would forget? This spirit, this...boy, was endearing to her. Perhaps if she had ever had a child, he or she would be like him.

     "You are not like the others." he said. "You are very different. But I do like Solas too. Will you try to play nice with my friend...for me?"

     "Yes. I will." she said.

     "And then you can help too. He has a secret. He would never tell, but if you ask him about it...ask him nicely...maybe he will tell...and then maybe you can help. Not like how I help, but like how you help people. And I would like that...very much."

     "But what about you, Cole? How would I ever help you?"

     "You already have." he looked at her. All the secrets of the realm seemed to be in his eyes. "You don't see me as a...spirit, or even a demon...No, you see me as a person...I can tell. And I like that about you. And I'm sorry I can't ever help you more."

     "You help these people, Cole. The best way you know how. It may be different than how others do it. But that doesn't matter, does it? Not in the end. Not really. Not when you, regardless, are a friend. I'm sure you've done all you can for me. I will be fine."

     He looked down at the people below them. They couldn't see up there, see Ophelia and Cole, for they both hid in the shadows, at that moment, shielding themselves from the outside world. But they were there, nonetheless, carrying on, living their lives around them. The soldiers drank, forgetting their memories of war and death. The ladies laughed, the bard sang, the world moved on.

     "I think I know someone who  _can_ help you." said Cole. "The man...who lied to you, who hurt you. He loves you. He wants to help. I can feel it. And he waits for you...I think you should go to him."

     The man who hurt her. Thom Rainier.


	18. Inner Circle~The Apostate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dedicated to Gwyn Rogers-Stark.
> 
> ~Sonya

     Ophelia knocked on the door of Solas' quarters. There was no answer. Perhaps she caught him at a bad time? What could he possibly be doing that would keep him busy? Should she just walk in? No. No, he wouldn't want that. She needed to be nice, like Cole said. She needed to be patient. She turned around, was just about to walk back to the main hall when there, in front of her was Solas. He moved more stealthily than she expected.

     "Why are you here, Inquisitor?" he asked. His voice sounded complacent, void of emotion. His eyes told a different story, but obviously he did not want her to see that.

     "I...was looking for you." was all she could say. "I wanted to talk to you."

     "We have nothing to say." he said as he opened the door to his study.

     "I think we do." she remarked as she followed him inside. He did not stop her, nor did he yell, or tell her to go away. He walked over to the desk and leaned over it, looking at the scattered papers on it, trying to deter from speaking to her. His wound was gone, from where she hit him, no doubt some sort of healing magic he used.

     "I won't stop you from walking out that door right now, Solas." she said calmly. "If you want to leave."

     "You know I won't do that." he said, in an even tone, but almost remorseful. 

     "And why, pray tell, is that?" She tried to sound equally as complacent as he. It was better than getting angry at least.

     "Where else are you going to find a mage so well versed in matters of the Fade? One who is willing to join your cause?" he asked, not looking up from his desk. She stepped toward him.

    "But you want to leave. I can see that. I...Solas, you don't have to be here. I'm not going to hold you back, if that's what you want." she tried to sound concerned. It probably didn't matter at all what she said, or how she said it. Just when she turned to leave, he spoke.

     "I know." he said. He sounded sad. "It's...I don't know if I can explain."

     "Please try," she pleaded. "And I promise I will listen." she walked back over and leaned against the desk. He sighed. He looked tired. She had never seen this side of him before. He was always either angered or...nothing. No emotion. Cold, and calculated, it seemed. But today was different. This day he was...sad.

     "Where do I begin?...Do I bother to explain my troubles? When you never listened to me before?"

     "Solas...I-"

     "Stop. I know. You are trying to make amends, Inquisitor. And I should be gracious enough to let you try, at least. But my quarrel is no longer with you. I understand now, that we have our differences. And it is nothing more than that. However..."

     "However?"

     "I...find myself in a rather...unanticipated position...as of late."

     "Is there anything I can do to help?" oh how she hoped she could. She didn't want to be his enemy any longer. 

     "Do you know anything about children?" he asked. Children?

     "Uh...umm..."

     "Gwyndolin...is pregnant."

     "Ah. I see. And I'm assuming you would like to help her? I know you two have grown close. It's no secret you're fond of her. She seems a good friend. Who is the father?"

     "Me."

     "You jest."

     "No. I do not, I'm afraid." his expression was very grave.

     "You say that like it's a bad thing. But is there nothing more beautiful than bringing a child into the world?"

     "No...there isn't. In all my years...with everything I have seen...All the places I have traveled, I have seen nothing with more beauty, grace, and honor...than the privilege of witnessing such a thing." his eyes lit up. He was happy. But he was also scared. Terrified beyond belief. No longer could he escape into the Fade, nor hide behind mysticism and magic. He was...a father. A father who needed to be there. In that world, and only that world. To raise that child.

     "I couldn't agree with you more." she smiled at the corner of her lips. "Solas...I think you will be a wonderful father."

     "Will I? Do you really think that?" he panicked. "This world is torn, Inquisitor. And I wonder if there is any way to fix it. I wonder...at all hours of the day...if I haven't made a mistake-"

    "Don't ever think that." she said as she put up a hand to stop his words. There was a man once, that she called father. Only she had been wrong to do so, wrong to ever think that he, or anyone in his family, was ever truly good. But then again, neither was she. Perhaps the demons in the Fade weren't the real threat. For there were plenty of them in their world already. But Solas could never be one of them. He could never regret any of his actions, any of the love he possibly shared for Gwyn, or that child. He should never question, for if he did...what kind of father would he be?

     "But what am I supposed to think?" he asked, honestly wanting an answer to that question.

     "That we must work harder to keep this world from ending, mustn't we? So that your child can enjoy it, Solas. And that means working together. Which means we must trust each other...We  _all_ must trust one another. To see this through."

     "...Agreed, Inquisitor." he nodded. "But were those words really meant for me?...Or were you needing to hear them as well?"

     "Probably both." she sighed. "Yes, probably both."


	19. Inner Circle~The Poet

     "You know, what you did for Blackwall? That was...truly something else." said Varric. "I don't think anyone here would've wanted to show him mercy like that."

     "It was the right thing to do." said Ophelia. He chuckled.

     They were camped out in the Hinterlands, taking a days rest from the travel. They were headed north, to investigate leads on red Lyrium caches reported. Varric believed in to be a strong cause to do so, and Ophelia agreed to help. So there they were, with Inquisition soldiers escorting, sitting in the grass, sharing a drink. Blackwall was nearby, though he had been keeping his distance lately, and Ophelia wasn't sure why. Just as always he went where ever she went, shadowing her, protecting her...but he wasn't speaking to her again.

     "Either way, Inquisitor, people will be telling stories about it for quite some time. Was even thinking of writing one of my own." Varric took a drink of his ale. "Oh and I think it will be good too." he smiled.

     "A story eh?...And what exactly will it tell?"

     "Hmm...let's see...Two strangers, fall in love, one get's betrayed by the other, and then they..." he paused. "Well, that's where I'm stuck you see." he said. "I don't know how the story ends."

     "That's interesting." she raised a brow.

     "So...you two... _are_ back together aren't you? I mean, you guys don't really talk much. You're here...he's over there. Doing that thing he always does where he sulks and broods and...Well, it's not really out of the ordinary, come to think of it."

     "Things are...different now." Ophelia said as she glanced over at Blackwall, who was on the other side of the encampment, sitting on a stump, eyeing the woods.

     "You certainly aren't wrong there. Thing's have been...crazy around the keep lately. Did you hear? Solas has a girlfriend or something like that?...and the girl's sister came to visit. She follows Cullen around like a lost puppy." he smirked.

     "What about you, Varric? Any women in your life lately?...You and Cassandra have certainly been talking a lot."

     Varric laughed. "That woman is all business, Inquisitor...But, she is a good friend." he smiled off into the distance.

     "Tell me something Varric." she spoke softy. "What was he like? Your friend, Hawke." Varric sighed at her question.

     "Yeah, that's right. You didn't know him very well did you? None of us really had the time to chat, did we? I figured that question would come up."

     "I'm sorry." Ophelia said. "I shouldn't intrude."

     "No. It's alright...I...guess it had to come out sometime...Of course, you know Cassandra was angry I didn't bring him in sooner. I can't blame her. He would've made a good leader.  _Was_ a good leader. He was a hero. And she despised me for that. But I thought I was doing the right thing at the time. And...now he's gone." Ophelia wanted to cry. She could see it in Varric's eyes how close he and Hawke had been. Like brothers. 

     "But you did the right thing, Inquisitor." he said. "You made a decision, and did what was best at the time. Funny thing...You remind me of him. Always trying to do the right thing, even when others don't agree with it. And I bet...that if he were sitting here right now, instead of you...He would've done all the things you did. Help people, listen to people...forgive people."

     "I don't think I'd ever measure up to someone like him." Ophelia said.

     "You don't have to. You don't have to be anyone but you. You choose your own life, you know."

     "Do I really? I mean...do you think that's possible?"

     "Anything's possible, Inquisitor. And I'm sure it will make for one helluva story." Varric winked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have quite a bit of feels right now over deciding to sacrifice hawke in adamant so...yeah i kept this chapter short and sweet and to the point, sort of.


	20. Inner Circle~The Templar

     Cullen Rutherford was no ordinary man. A handsome fellow, to say the least, with feathery blonde hair that any woman would beg to run her fingers through. His eyes were kind, though undoubtedly they had seen too many battles, and his smile was irresistible. His tone was sometimes commanding, then sometimes seemed sweet an innocent. It would not surprise Ophelia in the slightest if almost every woman at Skyhold secretly longed for him. She was certain that only one woman could have that man's heart though. He seemed a noble sort. The kind that wouldn't tarnish his reputation by sleeping with every tavern maid he saw.

     She eyed him as he went over his daily reports. He didn't seem to notice. His attention buried in his reports. But he asked her an interesting question, one that brought her out of her musing.

     "So, Inquisitor. How is the 'would be Warden' these days?' he asked with a curious smile.

     "What makes you think I'd know?" she asked him back, rather coyly. 

     "Yes, well, you were the only one to ever get close to him. Of course,  _you_ didn't even know him did you?" the question stung Ophelia a little, but she understood.

     "No, I suppose I didn't, did I? In truth, I have no idea what's going on in that man's head. We haven't spoken. I thought it best to leave him be."

     "But he still cares for you. Regardless of who he his. Warden Blackwall, or Thom Rainier, it doesn't matter." Cullen said reassuringly.

     "How can you know that?" Ophelia asked him. What was Cullen's game? He was awful curious of her personal life, when he never had been before.

     "I saw it, Inquisitor. He never left your side. Since the minute you recruited him in Hinter, he's always been there, fighting by your side. Even saved your life a few times, so the story goes. And when Haven was attacked, he never left then either. Only when you  _made_ him go, to face the Elder One alone. He followed  _your_ orders, and yours alone."

     "He was an...honorable man. A good warrior." Ophelia said, and nodded in agreement.

     "Yes, but it was more than that. When you went missing after Haven he...well he got worried. He argued with the others about searching for you. Leliana urged that he remain with the refugees, but he wouldn't listen. He even...threatened me. Threatened everyone. He believed you were alive, when everyone else thought you were dead. The day we found you in the snow, it was because he left to find you, and myself, Cassandra, and Solas went with him. And at Adamant, once more he stayed by your side. You said so yourself in your report that he fell through the Fade behind you trying to rescue you. Inquisitor...has there ever been a moment that he hasn't been there for you? He followed you. Before you were Inquisitor. In part, perhaps that's why you were chosen for the job." Cullen leaned against his desk. Everything he said was true.

     "Are you trying to convince me of the man's nobility?"

     "More like...reassure myself of it. But with all of that, and he still lied to us. To you. Why? When we could have helped him? Not all of us among the ranks are stalwart knights or faithful members of the Chantry. We could have cleared his name sooner." he sighed. "I'm just trying to piece it all together."

     "He wouldn't have wanted that, Cullen. And trust me, I'm still piecing it together as well...I...I know that he still cares for me. But..." she didn't want to go further. She wasn't entirely sure Cullen wanted details on her love life. She doubted that was the intention of the conversation, but still he pressed.

     "How...exactly do you know?" her expression must have surprised him. He became flustered. "I...I mean...How did he show you? What did he say?" 

     Ophelia chuckled. "It's not something that can be explained in words, Cullen."

     "Well, you could try..." he smiled tritely.

     "You...are awfully curious about this, Commander...What's your game?" she asked, leaning against the desk beside him.

     Cullen blushed. "There is...someone. But, I don't know how to tell her how I feel. I...was thinking flowers maybe? Women...like flowers don't they?" Ophelia laughed.

     "Now you have no choice but to tell me." she she said as she nudged his shoulder in a sisterly way. "But yes. Women like flowers...sometimes. Or dashing men saving their lives in combat, I suppose." she smiled. He smiled back.

     "I'd never want to put her in that kind of danger, though." he said.

     "There. That's it. That's what you tell her." Ophelia said, matter of factly.

     "Are you serious?...That's all I say? There's got to be more than that...I...always assumed women wanted more."

     "Some women do, Cullen. Some women do. But I have a feeling that the girl that's smitten with a man like you, soldier, is the kind that only wants your heart...So, what's her name?"

     "Celairia...The most beautiful name I've ever heard." Agreed. It was a beautiful name.

     This girl was very lucky. To have a man swoon for her in such a way, and a good catch too. Cullen was every little girl in Ostwick's dream. Ophelia couldn't bring herself above viewing him as a comrade, but he was indeed handsome, and honorable. Even if he abandoned the Templars, it was for a better cause. One that included the benefit and safety of all Thedas. And this Celairia, she was sure, would make him very happy. If not, she'd have a word or two for this girl herself.

     He was so different than Blackwall. The two were near opposites. In look, and demeanor. It seemed Cullen had trouble with words, at least when it came to women, almost...as if he'd never been with one. But Blackwall...he knew exactly how to handle Ophelia. Knew every way to go about it. And even when he was at a loss for words, he still knew how to hold her. 

     There she was, thinking of him. All the fluff around the keep lately...Talk of women and love and children and such. She needed to get away from it. Her heart still hurt. Even if everyone else seemed perfectly fine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Celairia, like Gwyn, is a character belonging to Gwyn Rogers-Stark)


	21. A Lover's Lament

     Ophelia rubbed her aching head. For the last week, she had been in Emprise Du Lion, quelling rifts, slaying demons, tiring herself, wearing herself thin. She was slowly, bit by bit, piecing together the information she had on the Venatori, and snuffing out caches of Red Lyrium. It was a hard fought battle against the Venatori camped there, but one she was prepared for. Her power with the mark was getting stronger. The more rifts she closed, the easier they became to close. It was frightening to think how much more powerful she was becoming, but it was also exhilarating. Though at the moment, all she could think about was how tired she was.

     She couldn't sleep. Even though she knew she was safe, well guarded, and could sleep soundly for a few hours, no sleep came. She was still plagued by nightmares, but they were getting worse. Perhaps these dreams coincided with the mark's power? Perhaps they were Fade dreams, her inner consciousness, her spirit, if you will, stepping out of her body and into the realm of surreal.  As if she were already dead herself. Was that even possible for someone not versed in ways of magic? Could be. After all, she physically stepped into the Fade. Twice. And lived. So she stayed awake, lying on her bedroll, in her tent, blissfully in the dark.

     The tent opened. Someone entered, and she reached for her dagger.

     "It's only me, my lady." said Blackwall. She sighed of relief. He was there.

     "I thought our days of tiptoeing in the dark were over." she whispered. 

     "And I thought you liked the dark." he said, and she smiled, though she doubted he could see it.

     He move to lay down next to her, stretching out, placing his arms behind his head. He sounded like a bear, groaning has he relaxed on the floor. She liked that about him. But she didn't know what to do. Would it be so awful for her to move closer to him? They weren't the same anymore, neither of them. And he spoke so little, sometimes going days without speaking to her at all. 

     "I didn't think you should be alone." he said in the shadows. "I...heard things."

     "What do you mean?" she asked.

     "I heard you...sobbing...in your sleep." he sighed. "I don't think anyone else did. I was...keeping guard, outside."

     "Keeping guard? You were watching over me?"

     "I always do. You're not the only one that's good at keeping to the shadows, love."

     "And you...do this at Skyhold?" Ophelia sat up to look at him, seeing his striking features, even for as dark as it was. His face held a grim, rather serious expression.

     "...Yes. Don't hate me for it. I don't regret it...Tell me, my lady. What do you dream of?" he reached out and put his arm around her, pulling her down to him. It felt wonderful. He was warm, and comforting and felt just the same as he always had.

     "I don't know if I should say. I don't want to bother you with such things." she said.

     "I thought by now you'd be willing to open up, my lady." he was referring to what she had told him in Val Royeux, she was sure of it. Which bade her to ask.

     "Speaking of opening up...Why haven't we spoken before now?" she sat up again. "Is it because of what I told you?" he sighed, exasperated at her words. Something was bothering him. Why didn't he want to say?

     "Right then. We'll strike a deal. I'll tell you what I'm thinking, and you tell me about these dreams you're having." he smarted. She sighed.

     "Fair enough..." she rubbed her temple. "I can't stop thinking about Adamant. In fact, I can't stop thinking about all of it. What we're doing, what we're up against. If...Corypheus succeeds in finding another way to open the Breach...and we fail to stop him...I can't bear to lose you again."

     "And you don't think we'll succeed?" he asked.

     "Well, I..."

     "You don't have faith in yourself, my lady. I can see that. And it can't continue. We've come this far. The Inquisition has come this far, because of you." he ran his fingers through her hair. "You  _will_ find him, and you  _will_ stop him. And you're not going to lose me. I made up my mind about that long before now." he caressed her cheek.

     "Your turn." she stated.

     "Where do I begin?" he asked with a smile. "I guess I'm not as good as you with words." he chuckled.

     "You make up for it." she teased. "But you're better with them than you think you are...Thom."

     "Thom?...Not used to that. I've been called Blackwall for so long." his brow furrowed in the dark.

     "Maybe it should stay that way. Don't you think? After all, you've kept the man alive this long..." Ophelia suggested. He nodded.

     "I suppose so. But is that what you want, my lady? To love a lie, or to love a man who's soul died out years ago? Who is it that you love, exactly? Warden Blackwall...or Thom Rainier?" he asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

     "Both, I suppose. And if I can bring myself to love both, than you can give me the courtesy to tell me what's on you're mind, and not dodge the subject." she said, smirking.

     He replied in a serious tone, his voice hushed, and urgent. "I'll tell you what's on my mind then, love. You're Inquisitor, plain and simple. You have a mark on your left hand that, with it, you can change the world. You lead an army that is willing to die for you, and worthy to do so. Unlike me."

     "Yes, you are-" she began, but he put his hand up.

     "That's not the point..." he sighed. "The point, love, is that you may very well be the only one who can end all this. That mark? What if it's the only thing standing between us...and a demon army that will make this world a living nightmare?...What if, even after everything, what we're doing is wrong?...And what if you are with child already?"

     "So...that...is what this is all about?"Ophelia raised a curious brow.

     "You're...not, are you?...My lady, it was one thing to cling to a hope of us having a future after all this. An entirely different matter if what you're doing could put you in danger...and put an unborn child in the frey..."

     "I'm...not." she hung her head. Yet another secret she would tell sooner or later. And when he would ask...

     "I...well. Right then...Wait...You're not?" he cocked his head to the side. "That's...surprising. And here I was, worried I'd made a mistake. Or worse, upset you because...I wanted you to be." oh no. No. He couldn't say that. Not that he wanted a child! Anything but that!...Ophelia started to cry. "My lady, I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

     In the early hours of the morning, the sun started to peak through the slight opening of the tent. The night had passed. Their entourage would wake any moment, and they would begin their journey back to Skyhold, and then to where ever the rifts popped up next. The conversation had to be no more. Ophelia couldn't think, and would talk no more of it, or her nightmares, or anything else. She bade Blackwall to take his leave.

     "Have your way, my lady." he said softly. "But we _will_ speak further at Skyhold." Reluctantly, Ophelia nodded in agreement.

     ...Skyhold was a dramatic mess, one that the tavern bard was more than happy to inform Ophelia of. Morale among the troops was high, which was encouraging, however, the expectation of an elven child, Solas' child, and relationship dynamics of certain Inner Circle members was certainly intriguing. And stressful.

     And then there was Thom Rainier. Or should she still call him Blackwall? She wasn't sure. She preferred he remain Blackwall, if though not his name, perhaps a title. A purpose. A man he aspired to be. To remind him of who he should be. But she wanted to love Thom, as well, for she knew that a name meant nothing. She knew that the man she had been with, had been so close to, was Thom. Regardless if he thought that person dead inside. No, he was there alright, in the darkest hours, and deepest embraces.

     He had more than made up for his mistakes. She was certain. He regretted everything he had done, yet had he not done it, she would not know him, and he would not have taken up arms for their cause...And he...wanted children with her? The thought on its own was alarming. She, the Inquisitor, and he, recompensing traitor. And she with her secrets, her lies, and her regrets. 

     He met her in the garden, away from prying eyes. He pulled her close before she had the chance to speak, and kissed her fiercely. She had all but forgotten how lovely it could feel. He nipped at her lip with his teeth. It sent shivers down her spine.

     "What the fuck am I doing?!" he said as he pulled away abruptly. "You...you are a siren." he said, "One I cannot resist." he sighed. "But we still have things to talk about. Tell me, love, is what you said true? You're not with child?"

     "No, I'm not." she said, saddened by the disappointment on his face. "I...cannot have children." she said regrettably. 

     "Ah. I see...And how exactly do you know this?" Ophelia could tell with his tone a voice that everything inside him was crawling with misery. She felt horrid.

     "I...made it happen. When I left Ostwick, I...met a Circle mage, who knew a ritual. The ritual used to prevent mages from procreating, and...I had her perform it. On me."

     "You  _let_ someone do that to you?!" he asked, trying to control his rage. She flinched at his words. "You?! You of all people, who despise magic?"

     "It's the reason I do!" she cried. "I had it done so that I would never have a child that was connected to my family, in anyway! And I regretted it then, as I regret it now!" she clenched her fists. "She used blood magic, Blackwall! And it can't be reversed! Because I will never allow anyone to use blood magic again! An added penance for everything I've done!" she stated, venomously. She paced, trying to control her anger. "Add that to the reasons I don't trust mages." she spat. "That was no Circle mage that enchanted me. I tracked her down. She was Tevinter, and apprenticed under a Magister, but had been exiled...caught torturing the servant's children. Her penance, exile...or death. And by the Maker...when I found her...I made her wish she had chosen death..." she glanced at her love as she paced. "Before you even ask, no, I didn't kill her. But I handed her over to someone who would." she tried to still herself. "I should've known better than to get tangled up in magic. I brought it upon myself."

     "Stop." he said, and grabbed her, keeping her from pacing. "Don't think that I'm angry with you. I understand. And yet you...fight along side mages. Why?"

     "Because they're not trying to curse me with blood magic I suppose?" that made him chuckle.

     "Fair enough. But why not tell me this sooner? I thought we were done with secrets. I've shared all mine. How many more do you have?" Ophelia took a long, deep breath before answering.

     "That's all of them...Well, I stole my cousin's shoes when I was seven. There. That's all of them...And you. That family I know you want...I can see it in your eyes...It will never happen." she teared up again.

     "Will it not? You really think there's nothing that can be done?...But it doesn't matter now. Right now, we've got things to do. One of which...entails you waiting for me in your quarters tonight." he kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks are given to Gwyn, and all the ladies at GGOT, for helping me work through the deets on some of the baby drama ;)


	22. A Lover's Lament pt II~Inner Circle~Tevinter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (contains info on Dorian's personal quest, though rewritten for head-canon)

     Ophelia mulled over everything Blackwall had said. The night before they had stayed up all night talking over it. She wondered how much longer she would last on such little sleep, but it didn't matter. She was bent on sorting it out. And nothing was going to stop her. She hoped.

     She found Dorian in the keep's library, lounging in a chair, looking quite dashing, as usual. He was reading over a very large, very dusty book, and though he didn't look up, he knew she was there.

     "You are a very interesting woman." he stated, a little smile at the corner of his lips. "I've heard quite the lavishing stories, and I wonder...which ones are true?" he sat up, crossing his legs in a rather refined manner, and it was very becoming of him.

     "Oh I imagine all of them are interesting. But doubt if any of them are true. And what of you?"

     "Finally! I was wondering when we'd get to talk about me!" he teased. Then he raised a brow. "But I honestly don't believe that you've really sought me out only to hear about how good I look in this shirt, and a good thing too. There is...a personal matter. One I had wished to discuss with the Inquisitor. And here you are."

     "A personal matter? Anything I can help with?" asked Ophelia.

     "See that's what I like about you, darling. You just want to help everyone don't you? Even the shifty mages that lerk in your keep." he grinned.

     "Shifty?" Ophelia smirked.

     "Oh not me, personally, no. But it's no secret you don't like magic. Is it?"

     "I have my reasons. To the point, what was it you had wished to discuss?"

     Dorian cleared his throat. "To be frank, I was approached my Mother Giselle. Rather frustrating conversation too, you see. She received a letter from my family, and asked me to meet with them in Redcliffe. And frankly, Inquisitor, that is the  _last_ thing I plan on doing." he pulled the letter from his pocket and tossed on the table next to him. "Look at it if you like. I won't. But, perhaps you can talk to them, for me. Instead. Save me the grace of having to do so." he smirked. "Take your guard dog. I'm sure he's itching to be let off the leash? Though if he bashes my father's retainer in the head, may it be  _thoroughly._ " Dorian's eyes lit up in a mischievous way. 

     Ophelia sighed. "I would be happy to go and meet with your family, Dorian. Could prove quite useful, especially if the Inquisition's not making enemies with a Tevinter Magister, but..." 

     "But?"

     "But I would need you there, Dorian." Ophelia persuaded.

     "Can I come too?" asked Cole, out of nowhere, making both Ophelia and Dorian jump.

     "Bloody hell, lad!" said Dorian. Then he turned to Ophelia. "Does he always scare people in this manner?" Ophelia shrugged.

     "I did not mean to scare you." Cole said softly. "I want to come. I want to help."

     Dorian huffed. "So he's going, your 'Warden' is going...and you're going to try and make me come too?!" he threw up his hands.

     "I could always order you to go." said Ophelia as she smirked. "What's the harm? What could be so bad about meeting an envoy of the Pavus family?"

     "Feels like chains...trying to chain, trying to tear at the spirit...Trying to change him..." muttered Cole.

     "What's he going on about?" asked Dorian.

     "He does that, sometimes." replied Ophelia. Dorian sighed.

     "Fine. Don't twist my arm, I won't have that. I will go then. We'll make a grand affair of it, I'm sure."

     "I'm glad to hear that." nodded Ophelia, but before she could say anything else, Dorian interrupted her.

     "But only because you don't know what your asking, Inquisitor. My family...they are impossible people. That expect everyone around them to live up to impossible standards. They expect the perfect heirs, breeding them to perfection, marrying them to the perfect people. They tried to control me, make me something I'm not, and so I left. Imagine if we are under false pretenses, and my family has NO intentions of speaking peacefully. Imagine what they would think of you. A distrusting rogue from the Free Marches. Who supposedly leads a holy crusade. Inquisitor, we are Tevinter. I'm afraid you will find my family to be nothing like the people you associate with here at Skyhold."

     "Is that just friendly advice? Or a warning, Dorian?" she asked him.

     "Both. So I will go. But YOU are doing the talking." Ophelia nodded.

     He had to go. If her went with her, perhaps he would help her to better understand this family of is, and better understand Tevinter. If she were to have any hope at finding a way to reverse her curse, she guessed it would be that way. She wasn't about to ask Solas on the matter, and she certainly wouldn't ask Viv, a devoted Circle mage. So that left her intriguing companion who urged her to 'fetch her guard dog', as he put it. She would certainly bring him along, how could she not? He would think something was amiss if she asked him to stay. But he couldn't know the real reason she wanted to go.

     Perhaps this was the way it was meant to be. She would reverse the blood magic before he had a chance to change her mind, if he would even try, and they could run away together. Far away from Skyhold and from the Inquisition. Perhaps Cassandra could take over as Inquisitor, or Cullen. Maybe even Leliana. All were worthy of the title, much more so than her. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced she had been wrong. That all this was some estranged accident. She was no Herald. She was not worthy of that title. It belonged to Hawke, the Hero of Kirkwall. Cassandra was right. But he was gone.

     She didn't deserve her title, but she deserved Thom Rainier. And the life she could provide him if the magic were reversed. She could give him a child, and they could raise a family, away from the Wardens, away from the Inquisition, somewhere. But she would always have the mark, she was afraid. There would always be rifts to close, but no longer would that mean that she was in charge of the welfare of all Thedas, and when they were gone, she could be free. Commanding an Empress' army? Leading Templars into battle against the Venatori and their mages? Fighting the Elder One?

     No. She couldn't do it. And what if reversing the blood magic took away the mark? Then there would be no more just cause for her to be claimed Herald, and lead an Inquistion. Damn that mark. She didn't deserve it. And she didn't want it either. It hurt no more, in fact it frightened her, for the more she used it, the more powerful she felt. It was like a drug, as if she were strung to pieces on Lyrium in a haze.

     She needed no more convincing. She would reverse the blood magic. Damned with her feelings. Even if it meant more blood magic...she would do it. She wanted free from all of it...

     ...Blackwall stood guard out side the tavern that was their meeting place. Redcliffe seemed calm enough, with the rifts gone, and the fighting elsewhere, but one couldn't be too careful, he had said. That, and he didn't feel it any of his business to be involved in the meeting, for whatever reason. Perhaps a...personal issue he had with the Tevinter? Ophelia wasn't sure, and she didn't ask. Cole remained outside with him, no doubt it was unnerving to Blackwall, but he accepted the boy, because Ophelia did. So only Ophelia and Dorian entered the tavern.

     To their surprise, it was not a family retainer that awaited them...but a Tevinter Magister. It was Halward Pavus, Dorian's own father that walked down the staircase to greet them. He seemed...tentative, for a man of his power and background. And Dorian immediately flew into a rage.

    "Father, I see. So, what? This whole story about the family retainer was, what, a smokescreen?" he sneered through his teeth.

    "I see you were told about this meeting then. I apologize for the deception, Inquisitor," he turned to Ophelia. "I never intended for you to be involved." Halward's words were soft, unlike what Ophelia expected. Of course she hadn't known what to expect.

    "Of course not!" raged Dorian. "Magister Pavus couldn't come to Skyhold and been seen with the dread Inquistor. What would people think?!" he said sarcastically, and angrily. "What exactly is this, father? Ambush? Kidnapping? Warm family reunion?" he spat. Halward sighed.

     "This is how it has always been." he said with sadness. Was it an act? Or was this a ruse? What exactly had happened that lead the two of them to be this way?

     "Well, considering you lied to Dorian to get him here...I think he has a right to be angry with you." she mused.

     "You don't know the half of it!" Dorian said to her. "Well, maybe you should."

     "Dorian there is no need to-" began Halward. Dorian cut him off.

     "I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves." he said. Ophelia wanted to laugh. Badly. She could've guessed that. But she kept a straight face. Obviously there was more to the story than this. More than that to drive a loyal Tevinter from his homeland. "Why anyone should care, I have no idea." he said.

     "This display is uncalled for." said Halward.

     "No! It IS called for! You called for it by luring me here!" 

     "This is not what I wanted." Halward was frustrated now.

     "I'm never what you wanted, father. Or had you forgotten?" there was emotion this time in Dorian's voice.

     "So this is a big deal then?" Ophelia asked, rather unphased by the 'shocking' reveal.

     "Only if you're trying to live up to an impossible standard!" said Dorian. "Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to instill the perfect mage! The perfect body, the perfect mind, the perfect leader." his words held venom. "It means every perceived flaw, every aberration is deviant and shameful...it must be hidden." he glared at his father. The man hung his head.

     "So that's what all this is about? Who you sleep with?!" Ophelia asked.

     "That's not ALL it's about," Dorian replied.

     "Dorian please...if you'll only listen to me-" Halward pressed.

     "Why?! So you can spout more convenient lies?! ...He taught me to hate blood magic, 'the resort of the weak mind'. Those were his words. But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to CHANGE me!" he choked up.

     "I only wanted what was best for you." said the Magister.

     "You wanted the best for YOU! For your fucking legacy! Anything for that!" Dorian was hurting. Ophelia could see it. Perhaps it was best that they go. This man had tried to use blood magic to change his son? That was...awful. And all too familiar. Dorian walked over to a table nearby and leaned against it, trying to calm himself.

     Ophelia followed him over to the table. "Dorian," she muttered quietly. "I should hate to think you would leave it like this. Do something you might regret. But would be no trouble if you would prefer to leave."

     "You really think I should forgive him for this?...If he were  _your_ father...would you?" a hard question. Ophelia sighed.

     "No. I suppose not. But it's not up to me...It's your call. Shall we take leave then?"

     "Yes." he said, then he turned and left the tavern. Ophelia followed, but not before turning to speak to Halward.

     "I am...sorry Inquisitor. I had hoped-"

     "No, it is I who must apologize, Magister. I had hoped that we would not be meeting under such a circumstance...Perhaps you really do seek forgiveness, and if so, that is admirable." he nodded in understanding. She stepped toward him. "However...What you tried to do is no small matter. And Dorian is a friend. I would advise, for your sake, to keep your distance." her words were calm, but they were no less intimidating to this man. "At least until he decides."

     The magister nodded and...bowed. Then took his leave. A humbled man.

     ...Dorian rode ahead of them back to Skyhold, obviously needing the time to himself. When he was ready, she would talk to him. But she didn't know what she was going to say. Though Blackwall pleasantly interrupted her awful thoughts.

     "My lady, I...couldn't help but overhear part of that conversation." he said quietly. "And all the more...disturbing bits of it." he raised his brows.

     "Agreed. It was...certainly disturbing." said Ophelia.

     "He's hurting." said Cole. "He loves his father. He didn't want to change, but he didn't want leave home either." he said softly. Blackwall shook his head and chuckled. 

     "You know, I had to stand out there and listen to this silly boy muttering like that whole time. You owe me for that." he said with a smirk. She nudged him.

     "There's a lot of pain, everywhere. So much of it sometimes." said Cole atop his horse. Ophelia almost found it silly that he insisted on riding a horse. No doubt his powers meant he didn't require one. But he insisted. Perhaps because it made him seem more human. And that meant he could help more, and frighten less, not being thought of as a monster. No, he was just a boy, on a horse. And it was endearing.

     "For once, the boy says something I understand." said Blackwall. 

     ...Back at Skyhold, everything was rather calm, for the moment, though Leliana believed she finally had some relevant information they could use on the Venatori, and what there next plans were. She advised that she would need time to verify it, and for Ophelia to simply check in with her to see if things changed. Cassandra had located the Lord Seeker's hiding place, which was positive news, and said that she would be ready to embark within a few days. 

     Cole had urged that Ophelia check in on Dorian. Seemed a good thing to do, as the man was still feeling the sting of his father's betrayal. So she went to the library.

     "I never got a chance to thank you." he said to her when he saw her enter. 

     "Thank me? I should think you'd be rather upset at me. Afterall, I was the one who convinced you to go to Redcliffe." she said.

     "Ah yes. So it seems. But you meant well. That I was always certain of." Dorian sighed as he stared out the window. "I am surprised by you, Inquisitor. Knowing your nature, being the forgiving sort, I found it rather odd that you didn't press me to forgive him or something. You know, talk it out, over tea." he chuckled.

     "Yes, but you also know I'm not exactly forgiving when it comes to misuse of magic. Even near misuse of it." she chided.

     "And yet, here we stand. You, befriending the son of a Magister, no less. I half figured when you learned the details of my father's doings, you'd throw me out on my ass." he smirked. "But at least my ass would've looked good."

     Ophelia smiled at Dorian. He was so...well, there weren't really words for him in her mind, but he was certainly interesting, to say the least. Perhaps she could trust him with her secret. It couldn't hurt. After all, he had some of his own. Poor soul.

     "No I...I wouldn't have. I couldn't begrudge you for something your father did. And...perhaps I understand more than you think."

     "How so? Pray tell?" he was so curious. She took a breath.

     "I've had my own dealings with dangerous magic. Part of my mistrust of it stems from those dealings." she sat down, and he sat down opposite of her. "I must admit, I...had an ulterior motive when we met up the other day..."

     "Did you now?"

     "Yes, I...well, in truth I had questions about your homeland. My particular question was...about blood magic." Dorian raised a brow. "I came across a Tevinter mage when I was younger, and, well, I didn't know this at the time but...I..." 

     "Please, my dear. You can be frank." he said reassuringly. She inhaled.

     "I had heard of the Circle mages in Ostwick performing a ritual to...disrupt the ability to produce children and...I came across a mage, who lied to my face, telling me she could do it. But it was no Circle magic she used. It was blood magic..." Dorian's brows raised even higher. "What the purpose of her treachery was, or why she cursed me, I never discovered, but...I discovered her whereabouts, and who she was. She had been apprenticed under a Magister, though was exiled for ghastly things done to his children and..." she tried to fight her tears. "I kidnapped her and...took her to the Templars. She is...no longer living." she sniffed.

    "Inquisitor, I..." Dorian reached out his hand to hold hers. "I am so sorry my dear...And, I suppose now I understand why you were so sympathetic of my...circumstances." he sighed. "Now it is my turn to ask, darling. How may I help?"

    "I was hoping...praying...though I didn't know if it were even possible...I wanted the spell reversed." she said.

     "I see." he said. "I am surprised you wouldn't turn to Solas about the matter. He's all too willing lately for just about any kind of magic. So I've heard. I...spied on him and his little Dalish lover talking about it...Oh and of course you wouldn't speak to Lady Vivienne on the matter. To admit to a Circle mage that you let someone use magic on you, when you yourself are prided for quelling unkempt power and such...Quite the controversy that would be."

    "True. Though I wouldn't have bothered Solas. He has enough tasking him at the moment." Dorian nodded.

     "So it seems you and I are tasked to the matter." he said. "I just...you know, I'm awful surprised. Do you know how rare it is for someone to be on the receiving end of that mess and not become a human vegetable?!" he chuckled. "You really are blessed, aren't you?...So why would you risk it again? I mean, children are overrated anyway, right? Is it...oh. I see what it is."

    "As do I." said a deep voice from the shadows. It was Blackwall. And he was angered.

    "How long have you been standing there?" asked Ophelia, abashed, and ashamed.

     "A lot longer than I would have cared to have been." he said with malice. "I can't even believe what you're considering. After  _everything_ you told me." he shook his head. "And you weren't even going to tell me about this, were you?!"

     "I, uh, seemed to have misplaced a book somewhere. I should-" Dorian began nervously.

     "No. You can stay." said Blackwall. Dorian didn't look like he wanted to argue that. "After all, you're the one she chose to talk to about this, aren't you?" he cocked his head. He almost looked as if he would hit Dorian, but he knew that the mage wasn't to blame.

     "Please, don't be angry." said another voice from the shadows. It was Cole, making all three of them jump. "She wants to make you happy. She thinks it will make you happy, and that will make her happy too." he said to Blackwall. Then he turned to Ophelia. "But that's not what he wants. He wants to do the right thing. He wants to be the better man."

     Cole's words hit home. Those were Blackwall's thoughts. 'Be the better man'. Like the real Blackwall, the man he aspired to be to make up for his past. His wrongs...

     "Wait, are you...hearing their thoughts?" asked Dorian. "Why this is simply marvelous! I simply must learn this trick!...Because then I could understand what the bloody hell is going on." he smarted.

      "My lady, we should speak about this privately." said Blackwall. Ophelia hadn't a clue why, but for some reason his words angered her.

     "No!" she spat. "No, we can talk about this now. Cole is right. I was going to have the magic reversed so I could have a child. Your child!" without even realizing, she had started pacing. "I thought that's what you wanted! Was not that the plan? A future? That when this 'blight' has ended and our work is done and we've played all our hero cards, that we would...have  _something?_ "

     "Doesn't sound like a bad plan," said Dorian. Blackwall's expression hushed him, though.

     "And you're answer is to go against everything you believe, my lady?" Blackwall asked, albeit a little too calmly. He was beyond anger, apparently.

     "I went against everything I believed when I let a traitor live!" she spat, and instantly regretted her words. The look on his face said it all. Why didn't just come out with it? Tell her to her face how hypocritical she sounded? Would he really live up to his promise then? To not tarnish her name, for...what? Honor?

     She walked away then. But not before hearing Cole speak her thoughts one last time.

     "Part of her wishes she'd died at the Conclave." she heard him say. Maker only knew what Dorian and Blackwall's expressions were at those words, for she didn't. She had already left the room. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (imperative note: in my head-canon only blood magic can reverse the spell put on her, though whether that deviates away from Dragon Age lore is left up to the spectator. I figured that would be worth mentioning, in case a Lore Nazi should arise to attack the kingdom that is my head-canon. carry on, readers.)


	23. A Lover's Lament pt III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (nsfw warning: some of this chapter gets a little "heated". Thought Id warn you guys. I'm not overly fond of posting anything remotely close to nonconsent, but is necessary for the story.)
> 
> Sera: "and some of you lot like it kinda kinky, dont ya?"
> 
> Me: (speechless)  
> ~~~

 

     Ophelia went up to her quarters and locked the door. She would see noone. She needed time to think. How could she have gotten caught up in all this? Where had it all gone so wrong?

     There was a loud bang on the door. Then another. Whoever is was, they were relentless, and instead of politely excusing themselves they continued to pound on her door. And she knew by the anger in their voice who it was.

     "My lady, if you don't let me in I will kick down this door!" shouted Blackwall. The very person she was trying to avoid.

     "Fine! Have it your way then!" she heard him say.

     "Wait!" she screamed. Then she sprinted down the steps to unlock the door. "I'll not have you wasting Inquisition coin buying a new one!" she spat, as she trudged back up the stairs. Blackwall followed closely, furiously.

     "Ophelia, why are you doing this?" he asked her. "You're acting like an ignorant child. Why don't you-"

     "Go away, Thom!" she said angrily, and he flinched at hearing his name. She didn't want to hear what he had to say. Not right now, not when she was already hanging on a thread.

     "No!" he said. "No, we need to talk about this. My lady, why? Why would you throw away everything you've worked for?! You would destroy everything you've built, everything we have?" he pleaded.

     "I didn't ask for this!" she replied, trying to fight her tears. "None of it! It was all some stupid accident! This mark! Everything! I was never meant to do this! I never should have!...Maybe I should have stayed in the Fade, while you escaped. Let Hawke live. He was meant to be here, not me!...Maybe that's where I belonged!"

     He snatched her up by the shoulders then. "Don't talk like that! That's not you! That's just some nightmare still trapped inside your head! You shouldn't feel-"

     "How am I supposed to feel?!" she had been struggling to free herself from his hold on her, to no avail, so she punched him, right square in the gut. This was not like when she hit Solas. No, this was no light slap. She hit him with all the force she could, and he was doubled over from it.

     "So this is the game you want to play?" he asked gruffly, glaring at her. "You don't want to do that..." he warned. But she didn't listen. She was too angry. He circled, and she matched his step, joining the dance, matching his footing, like they were two wolves, circling their prey.

     A rogue versus a warrior? Interesting game. She lunged, as if dagger in hand she would lunge at a demon's face. But he was too smart. To well versed in her fighting tactics. Had seen her do it a hundred times or more. He grabbed her wrists, stopping her from hitting him, so she brought her feet up to his chest and kicked away from him. They both fell backward, but both sprang up, ready for another move.

     "Go ahead! Hit me if you like!" he spat. "But don't think I won't hit you back. And I hit harder."

     "You wouldn't hit a lady." she smirked.

     "You're no lady." he sneered. "And I need to fix that!" he swung, and she ducked, but when she stood back up he was already coming towards her, grabbing her around the waist. It had been a ruse, she was sure. She had seen him fight, and if he had really meant to hit her, he wouldn't have missed.

     He picked her up, and she struggled, but he wouldn't let go. He clung tightly as he carried her over to slam her down onto the bed. Then he got ontop of her, pinning her down. She couldn't escape. There was where their similarities ended. No matter her skills, he was much bigger than her. And now he was close enough to kiss her. He did, fiercely.

     All the anger left her. After all that, and he still wanted her. Badly. Their fighting had exited him, and he kissed her like a madman. She kissed him back, she couldn't help it. She couldn't resist this man. He was adept at touching her in all the right places.

     He ran his hand down her side, down to her leg, and more. She started to undo the lacing of his tunic, but it was stuck, so she ripped it instead. And he did the same. She felt sorry for the tailor at that moment.

     He undid her trousers next, untying the string, sitting up to angrily yank them off of her. It was thrilling, seeing this side of him. She had a glimpse of it once, in the War Room, and she had acted like a silly girl. But not this time. This time she was prepaired.

     Was this...Thom Rainier, perhaps? Was this part of who he used to be? Or was this simply how she made him feel? Or maybe it was both. Whatever it was, it was rather thrilling, and she loved it. She loved how he ripped her clothes off, and kissed her again, ravaging her. Kissing her neck, and her chest, and not gently either. He nipped at her, and it hurt a little, she had to admit. But in a terrifyingly good way.

     He kissed lower...and lower. Once again, driving her mad as he always did. And once again, she couldn't control herself, whimpering at his touch. Then he kissed her...down there. It made her gasp. Her very breath had left her. The way he moved his tongue...Even the hair on his face, making it feel all the better. She couldn't handle it. She tried to stop him, tried to reach out her hand to nudge his head up. He grabbed her hand, pinned it to the bed. Holding her there. Making her writhe in the pleasure. Making her tremble.

     When she almost felt she could burst, he lift his head up then, and only then. And the look he gave her...He sat up on his knees and pulled her closer, pulling her to him. Raising her up to rest on his lap, kissing her deeply. She could feel his tension. His muscles, and how hard he was. He ran his hand up her back, to her neck, then gripped her hair. Tugging on it a little, leaning her head back to kiss her neck again, and...bit her neck. She winced, and he chuckled.

     "What's the matter, my lady?" his voice was low, "Don't like it when the dog bites you?" he asked. Then he threw her back down onto the bed and pulled his trousers the rest of the way down.

     He climbed on top of her and entered her, roughly. Though not too roughly, but just enough for her to get the point. This would be no trite love making. This was the other side of the coin to their bond. The part that made them animals, that raged, waiting, hiding in the dark until they pounced. Like the monsters they had become.

     But there was love in his eyes, and he never took them off her. He didn't want to be angry with her, did he? And she didn't want him to be either. She wanted what they had before...before all this began. Before the Storm Coast, before Adamant...before the fateful day in Val Royeux, when she almost lost him to the gallows. Before they knew all the nasty secrets, and before they lost sight of what they were fighting. It shouldn't have been each other.

     She put her hand up to his face, caressed him, to still him. He softened, and slowed himself. She wanted their first kiss, in the barn, in the torchlight. She wanted the dance they shared in Hilamsharal. This was thrilling, yes. Exciting? Yes. And bloody hot.

     But it wasn't what they needed. And she needed him to know. To hear it, to know how she felt.

     "I love you, Thom." she said. He froze. Stopped completely, gaping at her.

     "You...I...I um..." he stuttered. "You've...never actually said it before." he brought his hand up to caress her face. His expression was...puzzling. She had no idea what it meant. His eyes...he was...she really didn't know. Until he spoke again. "My lady..." he began. "Ophelia...I've always loved you, but did you know that? Since the moment I laid eyes on you in Hinter...I love you then, as I do now." he said with certainty. "And I'll never stop."

     He kissed her forehead softly. Then he kissed her lips, just as soft. Then he slowly thrust, as if it were their first time. It meant something then. Something she had never dared to dream of before. Was all forgiven then? Had their 'lovers quarrel' ceased?

     Agonisingly slow did he make love to her. Torturing her. Tenderly nipping at her. Then burying his face in her hair. Holding her close. Drawing it out as long as he could until he could take no more. She held onto him, not wanting to let go.

     ...When they were finally through, some time later, and covered in sweat...they layed there, in silence, as Thom Rainier stroked Ophelia's hair. She layed her head on his shoulder, and she could hear his heart still pounding from their game.

     "I'm sorry." she said quietly. "What I said in the library, I...didn't mean it. Shouldn't have said it."

     "I think you should stop that." he said, as he leaned to touch his head to hers. "It doesn't matter now." he sighed. "None of it ever mattered. This...here. This is what I want. To be with you whenever I can before I have to share you with the rest of the world again." he toyed with her hair, running his fingers through it. "Was what Cole said true, though? Did you really wish you had died at that temple?"

     "Part of me, perhaps." Ophelia mused. "Right then I did. I...only wanted to make you happy. I thought that was what you wanted...When you thought I could be with child you...said you hoped I was."

     He sighed. "But I wasn't thinking, was I? Putting what I wanted above everything else? And if it meant you going against what you believe, love. Risking your life with more blood magic. My lady, it's not worth it. Not when you are needed elsewhere."

     "What do you mean?" she asked him. Propping herself up on his chest with her elbows, looking down at him. He caressed her arm.

     "Part of me believes you really are the...'Herald of Andraste'. You might not believe it. But what if that mark placed on your hand...is the only thing standing between us, and the world ending? And the blight consuming us all? What if everything was no accident...your whole life...leading up to this? And you...must be the one to stand against Corypheus?...and I can't let you do that alone."

     "I know." Ophelia sighed. "Maybe you're right."

     "I know I am. If you weren't the woman that you are, the woman your past made you, you wouldn't be here...and I wouldn't love you, would I? Not like this...and one day...when this is all over, and you are no longer needed elsewhere...then, maybe we we'll try. Maybe forget everything, the Wardens, Inquistion. Put it all behind us. Maybe...and have as many children as you like. A dozen even." Ophelia chuckled at his words.

     "As hard as it is to resist you, my love, a dozen we might possibly have!" that made him laugh. Then he bit his lip as he eyed her.

     "Say it again." he said. "That you love me. I love hearing that."

     "I do. I love you, Thom Rainier."


	24. How to Kill a Dragon

 

     There were reports of a Dragon in Hinter, near Redcliffe. This was no Dragonling or Wyvern either. No, it was rumored to be near fifty meters tall, shiny yellow scales, and razor sharp fangs and claws. With a terrifying wing span. And Ophelia, as Inquisitor, was comissioned to investigate.

     Oh what fun, she thought to herself, as she and her best warriors rode to where the dragon was reported to be seen. For all she cared, she'd sooner evacuate Redcliffe, and never return, than mess with a dragon. But she wasn't exactly the sort to run from a good fight. Iron Bull, a Qunari of the Ben Hassrath, seemed to share her opinion. She rolled her eyes as he laughed in her face upon hearing about the dragon.

     Cassandra didn't laugh. No, she was far too concerned with the citizens of Hinter and their safety. She volunteered to go, out of duty and honor of course. Blackwall, on the other hand, went for an obvious reason. He would never leave Ophelia's side, he had promised. Cassandra had remarked on how he would possibly be useless against a dragon, as he was not truly a Warden, afterall, and without their sanctioned ability.

     Blackwall merely glared.

     Ophelia had no opinion on the matter. She was no mage. So was it some mystical power that gave her an edge over her enemies? Perhaps the mark on her hand? No. She was made to hide in the dark. That was what it was. In life as well as mentally she was fit for the shadows. Perhaps the same could be said for Thom Rainier. Perhaps the monster he made of himself was fit to wield a sword and hold a shield. No magical power necessary. Just the finest weapons Herrit could craft at his table.

     So there they were, the four of them, in the Blood Cliffs. Just the name of the region itself was intimidating. Upon reaching it, Ophelia could hear roaring in the distance, and smell the ugly scent of fresh blood. Iron Bull smirked.

     "Are we having fun yet?" he asked. Blackwall snorted.

     "Always fun putting yourself between hundreds of sharp teeth and a rock." he said. Iron Bull chuckled.

     "Keep your eyes open." said Cass to both of them. They nodded.

     There were recent corpses scattered about and crumbled rock faces. Something large had landed, splitting the trees and sent large boulders tumbling down. And where ever it was, they were about to tangle with it.

     They edged along the outskirts, avoiding being out in the open and completely without cover. But it was difficult to remain undetected for long, as they happened upon a Dragonling nest. They were easy enough to dispatch, but the roaring got louder. The yellow scaled monster knew they were there and was getting closer. Probably sniffing them out.

     Ophelia needed the element of surprise, if she were going to win this fight.

     A shadow passed over. The dragon was circling, seeking them out. And all too soon there was a crash. A ball of fire hit, smashing a tree, not fifteen feet away. They dodged as the tree came close to landing on them all. They ran to cover, behind a rock jutting up from the ground. This beast was testing Ophelia's patience.  She took a deep breath and pulled Shadow and Shade from their sheathes.

     She heard a loud rumble, and felt it on the ground. The dragon had landed to investigate. She peaked out from behind a crevice, to see very large teeth. The dragon was unbearably close. It was on to them. She needed to cause a distraction, so that the others could attack. She motioned for them to be ready, and all three nodded, weapons drawn.

     Ophelia leaped in front of the dragon, and as it reared its massive head to scald her with flame she ran, right underneath its feet. It snapped at her but missed, then it turned, and as it did the others charged at it, laying into it with heavy blows. Though they barely pierced its hide.

     This beast was slow on the ground, and Cass, Bull and Blackwall slashed at its legs as Ophelia dodged the ugly beast's teeth. It fired again, its roar echoing through the mountains, and Ophelia jumped out of the way. Barely missing the flames that time. It reared again, this time to slash at Ophelia with its claws.

     The blows to its hind legs were too much of a distraction from attacking Ophelia, so the big brute turned around again to nip at the warriors and spit flame. They were the most protected against flame with their heavy armor, so they scathed by with little injury, dodging the behemoth's advance. And it gave Ophelia time to fend off the dragonlings that circled her. These were a bit stronger than the last, particularly when she was fending off two of them on her own.

     Blackwall had noticed her being attacked. Damn him. He let out a warcry, drawing the attention on him, and away from Ophelia, putting pressure on the forward party's attacks. But it gave Ophelia enough time to lunge on the dragon's rump and cut deeply into its hide. It felt it then. She could see the blood gushing out. Though there seemed to be alot of it, it was a mere scratch to a creature of that size, but it hurt just enough to piss it off and send it pushing off from the ground and into the air.

     Where the dragon was big, slow, and bumbling on the ground, it was a formidable foe in the air, circling them and breathing fire. But they were fast enough to flee to cover, angering the beast. So it flew off. To it's nest.

     Dammit, Ophelia thought. If they were going to kill it, they were going to have to follow it in. It was injured, and wasn't going to leave it's nest. And that would probably trap them. Though it would be grounded. It wouldn't be able to fly away, and perhaps they could kill it faster then it would kill them.

     "Fuck..." said Iron Bull. "We're really going in there?" he asked.

     "We're really going in there." said Ophelia. "He can't take off in there. And he'll defend his nest. And as long as you can keep from being burnt alive, I can get close enough to gut him." Iron Bull smirked. Though Blackwall and Cassandra didn't seem as enthusiastic.

     "I prefer demons right now." said Blackwall. Ophelia agreed.

     She eyed the trail of blood as they entered the cave. Dragon's blood was a curious thing. Deep red, like the blood  of a man or mortal beast, but yet different. Mystical. Ophelia gathered it had tremendous magical properties. She wondered if there were ever those brave enough to face a dragon, to drink from it's blood and gain it's power. Disgusting thought, really, to drink another's blood, but she had seen and heard worse.

     The trail stopped. Curious. The others looked around for movement in the large cavern, but saw nothing. Ophelia's eyes adjusted. There...she saw it, above them on a ledge. She motioned for them to look up at it, then motioned for them to veer left, moving along the cavern wall. No doubt there was more in there than them and the dragon. She heard the hissing. More dragonlings. Their claws scraping against the rocks with their fluid movement.

     Hitting it from the back was out of the question as it was tucked away up on the ledge. They would have to draw it down to them. Blackwall motioned to a rock sticking up in the middle of the cave, big enough for them to take cover behind, then he shouted, getting the beast's attention. It roared, not a roar of flame, but one of challenge. It jumped off the ledge and onto the cavern floor, and they darted for cover when it sent a firebolt crashing toward them. It was like a volcano spitting magma in such closed space.

     Ophelia had remained there, right underneath the ledge the dragon had been on moments before and now she was behind it. In her element. In the shadows. Daggers drawn. She could see faintly where she had made her cut though its scales, see the blood that had stopped flowing and started to dry.

     She had a notion to reopen it. Perhaps cut deep enough, let enough blood for the dragon to bleed out and at least it would slow the beast. She waited. Patiently, breathing in through her nose, slowly out of her mouth, clearing her thoughts and focusing on her strike...The tail swished...she saw it as if in slow motion, going left...going right, feeling the breeze on her face from the movement...it swished left, and she jumped.

     Something barreled into her, knocking her to the right, the air leaving her lungs when she hit the ground. A dragonling had leapt out of the shadows at her. Interesting, a creature more adept at stealth than her. This would be a good fight. Well, it would have, had it not for her being distracted and the dragon's tail coming back round to knock her off her feet again. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Blackwall start to run toward her to aid, but she put up a hand to stop him. He needed to stay with the frontal fight, so that she could strike from the back.

     But the dragon had noticed her. If not for that damned dragonling catching her getting ready to strike she would've had him. But instead, the colossal beast turned, to see what was going on behind him...Blackwall could never have gotten there in time. The beast turned and faced her, spitting fire at her, which she dodged well enough, but she mistepped...and was caught in the dragon's mighty slash.

      She looked down...so much blood spilling out of her stomach. She clutched it as she collapsed, and the dragon angrily spewed fire everywhere around them. The cavern lit up...but everything was going dark. Everything was blurry. Ophelia laid there in dirt and a pool of her own blood as she watched Cassandra get hit with fire and fly some fifteen feet away from where she had been standing, knocked unconscious. Iron Bull charged at the beast but was sent flying back and lay in a crumpled heap on the ground.

     This was it wasn't it?...So much for saving the world, eh, Ophelia?...So much for the famous Herald of Andraste defeating the evil that claimed the world, spitting in the face of the Elder One who saught to rule it. No, she would drown in her own blood as everything burned around her. Perhaps this was penance for doubting her purpose. A nasty bit of humor and irony on the Maker's part.

     Out of the flame stepped Thom Rainier. Blackwall yet stood, sword and shield in hand. Glaring at the beast. And the beast backed up a step. Intimidated. No fear in the man's eyes, only anger. Obviously Blackwall had been tired of this game. He roared at the beast, a cry of bloodlust, and he rapped his shield with his blade.  
      
     "Come on, you big son of a..." she heard Blackwall say as the beast lunged. When he did, Blackwall threw up his shield between him and the fangs that snapped. It knocked him back a step, but he stood firm, getting right up in the beast's face to slash at it's nose. It reared up to slash, a fatal mistake. Blackwall lunged, aiming for breast, running his sword through. The dragon cried, and swiped at him, but he had already moved out of the way.

     Dragonlings came then, hearing their dragon's cry, and snapped at Blackwall. He kicked them back, one of them sent flying, bashing it's head on a rock, and it went limp. The other two snapped at him, but so did the dragon, and when he ducked, the dragon bit one of its own, removing the head from its body. As the dragon spat it out, Blackwall swiped the third, sending it to the ground, limp.

     Now there was nothing between him and the dragon. Blood covered his armor. Sweat glistened his brow. And if looks could kill, a hundred men would've fallen.

     The scathing yellow monster opened its mouth to breathe fire. Bad move. Blackwall ran forward and ran his sword right into the dragon's throat. Up through the sinus cavity...through it's skull. Apperently though it's scales were tough as any metal, the inside wasn't so much. From where she lay, Ophelia could faintly hear the snapping of bone as the blade went through it to the creature's brain. With a loud thump, it finally fell. Dead. The ground shook in its wake.

     And a tall, dark haired man, covered in muck, rushed over to Ophelia and knelt. Breathing a sigh of relief as she was still alive...for the moment.

     "How many times do I have to save you like this, my love?" she heard him say as as everything blacked out.

     ...Ophelia awoke with a start. She had been dreaming of fire. Of dragons. But it wasn't a dream, was it? She woke to find most of the inner circle in her quarters with her. And it hurt to move...by the Maker it hurt.

     They hadn't noticed she was awake yet, so she watched them. Cassandra stood, arms folded, her usual look of worry clouding her striking features. Staring out the window. Cullen and Josephine leaned against the bannister, discussing something quietly. Leliana paced, hood pulled over her eyes, and Ophelia couldn't tell from where she lay precisely what the woman was on about. Varric was rubbing his temple.

     Sera and Viv sat on a nearby couch, Sera looking distraught, and Viv...clutching her hand. Solas walked quietly up the steps just then, with little blond Gwyn with him, holding his hand. He looked like he didn't want to come, but Gwyn encouraged the elf, placing a loving hand on his shoulder. Iron Bull was leaning against the wall near Cass, watching Leliana pace, shaking his head. Cole and Dorian were nearby, and just then, Cole whispered in his ear. Dorian looked right at her, eyes lighting up. He briskly walked over to the bed to tap Blackwall's shoulder. He was right there, next to the bed, and he looked up.

     "My lady." he said, a look of relief on his face. When the others heard him speak they all looked up. Apparently she had either been dead or almost there by the collective sighs of relief and gratitude to the Maker for her survival.

     She chuckled weakly. "Don't worry...I'm not dead yet." Dorian smiled, and Iron Bull laughed. Cass nudged him, but Ophelia could see her smile. Sera jumped up with joy that her Lady Herald yet lived.

     A healer came up the steps then, and attempted to shoe them all away, which most did, happy to know that the Inquisitor yet lived. Though Cassandra shook her head at the healer. She wasn't leaving. Neither was Blackwall. He grabbed Ophelia's hand and caressed it with his thumb. The healer peeled back the blanket, exposing the wound in Ophelia's stomach. It had been a nasty mess, but it was mostly healed. She began to change the bandage. Ophelia was surprised they had not used magic to heal her more efficiently. Cass answered that unasked question.

     "Both Lady Vivienne and Lord Pavus advised against using magic." she said. "They knew that you wouldn't want that. And no one is going to oppose two very adept mages." she smirked.

     "Which was all well and fine until you started dying on the healers." said Blackwall. Ophelia winced as her wound was cleaned with fresh water and a towel.

     "I'm just glad to see you are alright." Ophelia said to Cass. She nodded.

     "Bull and I came out of it alright, Herald. Minor bruises and scrapes...maybe a few burns." she sighed. "You however almost lost your life." her expression held concern. "It was risky...too risky for my taste...and it makes me beg to wonder-"

     "If I'm up to the task of being Inquisitor?" she tried to sit up but the healer put her hand on Ophelia's shoulder, pushing her back down. Ophelia sighed.

     "No one is saying that." said Cass. "But if we are to be prepared for whatever we may face with Corypheus...you can't do it alone. You need your allies. No more rogue acts of heroism, Inquistor. You need us...as much as we..." she glanced at Blackwall. "Need you." she said to Ophelia.

     "No longer can I fight in the shadows..." Ophelia mused.

     "As for you, soldier." Cass turned to Blackwall. "I...was wrong. About you. I am...sorry. And I hope that the rest of the Inquisition may see what you have done for Redcliffe." he nodded.

     "The Inquisitor needs her rest." spoke the healer. Cass nodded, then she bowed to Ophelia and took her leave of them. The healer turned to Blackwall with a raised brow.

     "Don't even try." he chuckled. "It didn't work the last two weeks, and it won't work today." the healer huffed at his defiance, but then bowed to Ophelia and walked out. Now it was just the two of them.

     "Cassandra is wrong, Thom." she finally said, toying with the blanket. "It's possible I may not be up for this. If I can't even fend off a dragon-"

     "Nobody ever asked you to do this alone. And nobody expects you to. Besides, you bear the mark....Maker I wish it wasn't you to be the one to have it." he said. He touched his forehead to her hand. She smirked.

     "It should be you." she said playfully. "I've never seen anyone do anything like that. Taking on a dragon by themselves."

     "A man might just do anything to keep from losing the woman he loves." he said in earnest. "Afterall, didn't you say once...how did you say it? Ah. That I was better suited to standing in front of dragons...while they try to eat me?" that made her laugh, and it hurt.

    "Oh please don't make me laugh like that!" she said. Then she sighed. "So...I was out for a while. What happened while I slept?" she asked. Blackwall raised a brow.

    "Too much for my taste. I uh...might've pissed off the commander...once or twice. And Cole...the bloody little bastard. He knew what was going on in your head, and it was scaring everyone. Had to threaten to thrash him to get him to leave. He likes you, you know, and he means well, but damned if he isn't annoying..." he sighed. "But I have never seen people so different, come together over one person. They may have at each other over everything else, but one thing they can agree on, your life is too valuable, my lady."

     "Yes, I am the one marked, as you said." she nodded.

     "No. It's not the mark, Ophelia...you don't get it do you? It's you. It's who you are. It's what you believe. You are who you choose to follow."

     "And they still choose to follow?" she asked.

     "Aye. They do. As do I. But you don't need me to tell you." he said with a smile.

     "But you know my past. You...and Cole, I suppose, know more about me than I ever cared for. You know exactly who you are following, Thom." he chuckled.

     "You...are infuriating." he said. "You could have left whenever you wanted. You could've left me in that jail in Val Royeux and done everything you've done differently. You could've left...but you stayed." he sighed. And then shrugged. "We always could have left."

     "Marry me, Thom." she said then. The man sat back in the chair abruptly, and stared at her in shock. That wasn't a very...encouraging response. Much to what would've been to the healers' dismay, she tried to sit up. But Blackwall put up a hand to stop her. He cocked his head to the side.

     "You...you just..." his brow furrowed in it's usual handsome way. "Did you just ask me to marry you?!..."

     "Is...that so surprising?" her chest hurt. Her heart raced in her chest. "I know a gentleman is supposed to be the one to ask but..."

     "I don't care about that. I know you too well, I know how you are but...my lady, don't."

     "Don't?" her heart beat faster.

     "You don't know what you're asking. It was one thing to love you before we go save the bloody world and I'm off to join the wardens...but another...to expect me to leave a wife behind as well."

     "So I'm asking too much?!" she asked, and now her injury was hurting worse. "Why are you saying this?!"

     "Ophelia. Calm yourself. You're being stupid." that angered her.

     "I thought I was naive, but never stupid!" she spat. Then she screamed as pain ripped through her gut. She looked down. Blood seeped through her bandage and even through her tunic. Blackwall jumped up.

     "Shit..." he was frantic, and all Ophelia could do was writhe in pain. Something was severely wrong.

     "Go get the healer!" she said to him. He turned to leave.

     "I'm not getting a healer." he said. "I'm getting Dorian."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is actually based on my playthru the other day. Here's how it happened. I recently did a respec on Blackwall and made him a champion/vanguard build and Ophelia, Blackwall, Varric (not cass) and Bull went to fight the dragon. I died. The only one left standing was Blackwall, but my game glitched so instead of running over to heal myself i could only sit there and watch as Blackwall took on several dragonlings while fighting this dragon solo. What a beast. Thus this chapter exists. I wish i wouldve recorded it. It was epic. xD


	25. Blood Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this chapter, unlike all those before, is told from Blackwall's perspective, thus the reason he is referred to as Thom.)
> 
> (Fact: in Dragon Age lore, blood magic with human sacrifice or unwilling participants is considered by most to be inherently evil. Though in all other context it is still fairly frowned upon.)
> 
> (Fiction: basically everything else in this chapter. Enjoy)

      Screams could be heard throughout Skyhold. And, surprisingly, not because Gwyn was giving birth already. No, it was because Ophelia Trevelyan lay in her bed, writhing in pain, bleeding profusely. And Thom Rainier was distraught.

     He was tired. He hadn't slept in weeks, sitting by his love's bed, waiting for her to wake up, if she would. Well now she was awake, and possibly dying. Again. Damn it, he thought. He couldn't go through it again. This woman, who loved him for who he truly was, was the only thing that mattered. And he really didn't give a fuck at the moment how she felt about magic.

     He tore through the main hall as fast as his legs would allow, and headed up the tower to the library, speaking to no one, though no doubt he recieved curious looks from passerby. He was searching for Dorian Pavus, who wasn't too difficult to spot. Ophelia trusted this man, perhaps the most, other than him of course. They had bonded through similar pasts, and if anyone could or would help her, perhaps it was him.

     "Ah. The black wall." said Dorian. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked with sarcasm, looking up from his book.

     "I've no time for this shit, Tevinter. You need to come with me." Thom said.

     "Well you could at least ask me to dinner first!" said the mage, rather disgruntled. There was another scream, echoing through the tower. "Bloody hell! Whoever's being tortured needs to be put out if their misery already!"

     "It's Ophelia, ya bastard!" Thom spat.

     "Shit!" the mage nearly fell out of his seat to get up.

     "Get downstairs!" Dorian nodded and followed him through the keep to Ophelia's quarters. Luckily they had gotten there first, and locked the door behind them. Hoping no one like the ex Templar brute came to kick the door in. Maybe they suspected the healer came to help? Thom could only hope.

     They found her on the floor. That was not a good sign. Not good at all. They picked her up and carefully set her back on the bed. She was unconscious.

     "What happened?" asked Dorian, "Her wound was nearly healed...unless it was the mark?...or ill effects of dragon's blood infecting the wound or...the blood magic, maybe?"

     "Well which is it then?" Thom asked him impatiently.

     "I can't be sure!" he replied. "There doesn't appear to be enough time to investigate!" he sighed, rubbing his temple. "I know why you brought me here, guard dog. She's past the point of healers. She will die without more blood magic." he glared then. "You know she will not want that!"

     Thom snatched him up by the collar.

     "I dont really care!" he sneered. He hadn't realised, but he had picked Dorian up off the floor.

     "Fine! Put me down then!" with a thump, he landed back on the floor. "Whose blood then? Mine...or yours?"

     "...Mine." said Thom. "Bad enough that I'm asking you to do this. Now hurry up and be done with it."

     "Her lover's blood...how romantic." Dorian shook his head. "Wait a minute! This could possibly-" Thom had already pulled a knife from his pocket and slit his hand. Blood dripped down his fingertips.

    "Fuck it. We're doing it then." said the mage.

    "Inquisitor?" spoke a voice outside the door. It was Lady Montilyet. Just perfect, Thom thought. "Are you alright?" she asked.

    "She's fine!" he called down to her. "She's...resting now!" he cursed himself. He was such a good liar any other day...but apparently not today.

     "Blackwall?!" said Josephine. "What is going on?! I heard...screaming."

     "We don't have much time." muttered Dorian. Then he grabbed Thom's arm. A talented mage indeed. He needed no staff to perform the spell. Perhaps his Tevinter blood made him a natural. He felt sorry for the man. He knew Dorian hated doing this. But this was different than 'changing' a person. This was saving Ophelia's life. This was no evil magic. Thom prayed. This would be a willing enchantment from the heart. His heart.

     There was loud rapping on the door. Josephine knocking relentlessly, calling up to him. He ignored her. They both did, too immersed in the magic that ensued...There was a flash of light around them, almost blinding Thom, as magic enveloped them, drawing power from the blood. Dorian drew from that power and placed it onto Ophelia...

     She gasped. As if she had been drowning and was given air once more. She was...alive. But yet unconscious. They checked her. The magic had healed her. But would she wake?

     "This is what I feared..." muttered Dorian.

     Light flashed in her hand. The mark was active, as if the magic had activated it. It burned its green flames in her hand.

     She shot up, scaring the hell out of them, and they jumped back. She stared, as if she didn't know where she was, or who they were. Then there was realization on her face. She remembered. Then she looked down at Thom's bleeding hand.

     "You!!" she screamed. Shit. Well she was back to her old self already, at least. He thanked the Maker that she was alright.

     More pounding on the door. Thom backed away to get away from Ophelia, who was getting up from the bed, coming toward him, looking like she wanted to kill him. He stepped quickly down the steps to open the door. Josephine barreled through and up the steps and stopped. There the Inquisitor stood. Alive and well...sort of. That reassured Josephine a little.

     "What is the meaning of this?" she asked, turning back and forth to look at Dorian and Thom. "Why on earth was the door locked?...and why did you wait so long to answer?!" she stamped her foot. Then she turned to Ophelia.

     "Ask...him!" Ophelia said with malice, raising a hand and pointing at Thom. This wasn't going to be good. Maker, he hoped she wasn't planning on fist fighting in front of them...More footsteps. Coming up the stairs. No, this would not be good at all.

     Thom sighed. Within minutes the ENTIRE inner circle had entered Ophelia's quarters, as she still stood there, fuming, glaring at Thom. Yes. She was certainly going to kill him. In all his days, as a mercenary, as a captian in Orlais, as a fugitive, and as a Warden...he had never seen a woman look at him with such hatred. And he had seen many a hateful woman in his day.

     If it weren't so bloody frightening, it would've looked attractive. But at the moment, Thom could only think of the hundreds of ways he would attempt to apologize.

     But he shouldn't. No. He should not apologize for saving her life. He could never do that. So maybe instead he would think of hundreds of ways to explain how sorry he wasn't.

     "What by the Maker is going on?!" demanded the Seeker. Ophelia snorted. A curious smile forming on her lips.

     "I was dead." she scathed. "These two fools used blood magic to bring me back."

     "Holy shit." said Varric.

     "Well, you were...near death." said Dorian. Ophelia growled in her anger.

     "I WAS dead!" she barked. "I was there!! I felt it!...I felt the Fade touch my heart!" she started to tear up. "And you!" she looked back at Thom. "How could you?!"

     "This is fascinating." Solas remarked. "Tis possible that the mark may have caused a breach within her, causing her soul to return to her body from the Fade...I don't see why it wouldn't be possible...given the mark's power...Fascinating. Blood magic you say?" everyone gaped at him.

     "Now is not the time Solas." chided Leliana. No, it certainly wasn't.

     "You're alive. And that's what matters!" Thom snapped at Ophelia. "And as far as I can tell you are you."

     "Though a very pissed version, I'd wager." Sera taunted. Oh how he wanted to strangle the little elf at the moment.

     "And your answer was to use such disgusting, weak, and pitiful form of magic, Tevinter?" asked Vivienne.

     "I assure you, Vivienne, Blackwall was a willing participant." said Dorian. "Quite different from the version of blood magic the Wardens used."

     "Fine, but that doesn't answer my question, Dorian...WHY did you do it!...you just said you thought she was still alive. Surely a Circle mage's healing ability could've saved her...What is your game?" she raised her staff. Vivienne had a point. No getting out of this one.

     "I...well, I..." he stuttered.

     "It was my doing, Vivienne. I asked him, and he agreed, for the Inquisitor's sake. It was the only way." Thom sighed, stepping between Dorian and Vivienne. She pointed her staff at him then. Perhaps out of instinct, Cassandra and Cullen started to draw their swords. Thom thanked Andraste they were the only ones armed.

     "Give me a reason not to use this." spoke Vivienne, coldly. It was Ophelia who spoke, from behind him.

     "Because blood magic had been used on me before. And as badly injured as I had become, they wagered it was the only thing that would work." she said, trying to fight her tears.

     "Used on you before?" Viv asked, quite surprised by Ophelia's words.

     "Fascinating indeed." spoke Solas quietly. Thom had to fight the urge to choke him.

     "This is all...very intriguing, Herald." spoke Cassandra. "Why did you never mention this before?"

     "Agreed." said Leliana. "Why was this never spoken of?"

     Don't say it, Thom thought. They don't need to know. You don't have to answer to anyone. You don't owe them anything...too late.

     "I never thought it would matter." Ophelia said softly. "But it does. I can see that now. And I hope you can too. I hope you can understand...I was tricked, you see, by a mage. Promising to use magic to render me unable to bear a child..." she sniffed. "But she had used blood magic. And I...I am lucky to have lived through it..." she rubbed the tears from her eyes.

     "Dear child..." Viv began, her words softer, sympathetic. "Why would you do such a thing? You're no mage. Surely a woman of your background-"

     "To keep it away from my family." she cried.

     "You're family?" asked Josephine. "The Trevelyans, of Ostwick? But what do they have to do with this? You told me you hadn't spoken to them in years."

     "Yes and I also told you not to contact them, didn't I?" said Ophelia. Thom could hear the regret in her voice. "And did you ever wonder why? Why I would do such a thing?"

     "Well no. But..."

     "Everyone has a past." Ophelia said to them. Then she looked at Thom, looked him in the eye. Bloody hell. "Mine is the murder of my father. That my 'lovely' family covered up. To save grace. Save their name. And I never wanted to have a child that would be connected to that."

     "Lord Trevelyan? But I heard his death was a hunting accident." said Cullen. Ophelia chuckled bitterly.

     "There was no accident. My father didn't even hunt...Hell, he wasn't even my father, turns out. His brother was." she snorted. "And they covered that up too."

     "...But then...who murdered him?" asked Cassandra.

     Please lie. Maker's balls. Please fucking lie!

     "I did." she said. Her tears flowed silently, as she sunk to the floor. The room was silent. Far too silent. Thom wanted to walk over to Ophelia, pick her up and hold her, let her cry in his arms. But he couldn't move. He couldn't speak. All he could do was stand there, and wait to see what the inner circle had to say about this.

     "Herald..." said Cassandra in disbelief. "...No. It can't be true. This can't be Ophelia Trevelyan. This is a demon!" she pulled out her sword. Maker help her.

     "No. It's her." said Cole from the corner. "I can feel her. No one else is in there but her. Just her...and her pain...so much pain...someone help her..." he whispered, full of sorrow. "I can't help. I've done all I could. I tried. But I couldn't change it. I couldn't take the pain away."

     "I can!" said the Seeker angrily. She stepped toward Ophelia "Tell me what you say isn't true!" she pointed her blade in Ophelia's face. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you!" Blackwall stepped in front of her. "And you!" she said to him. "Did you know about this?!" he lowered his gaze.

     "Holy...tits." muttered Sera.

     "Why didn't you tell us of this?!" demanded Cassandra.

     "Because this woman has spared Wardens, spared Templars," he glanced at Cullen. "And spared my life! When she could have made another choice! Because she's saved an empire, saved our sorry asses from demons, and faced off an archdemon and a bloody darkspawn on a tyrannical rampage!" he glared at them all. "Because Divine Justinia died so that she could live! Because she has a mark on her hand that closed the breach. And if that isn't reason enough...I don't know what is." he stepped over to a table then and grabbed a bandage, with which he roughly bandaged his hand. "And I'd rather have her ruling the world than bloody Corypheus!" he continued bandaging his hand.

     Iron Bull, who had been silently watching until then, finally spoke.

     "You know, I find myself agreeing with this bastard." he said with a smirk. "Hell, we've all done some shady shit in our day. Ben Hassrath, remember? I've got my sources." he chuckled. "And I too would sooner serve her than some darkspawn." he shook his head. "And Warden or not Seeker, you know what happened with the dragon. If I were you, I wouldn't piss this guy off anymore." he folded his arms.

     Cassandra sheathed her sword and walked out of the room, without saying a word. Though she didn't look too happy at all. Thom didn't blame her. He always knew that she cared for Ophelia. As did Ophelia for her. She had been there since the beginning, since the death of the Divine, the explosion at the Conclave, and all events to follow. And she had wholeheartedly believed that Ophelia was blessed. And this blow hurt her. Deeply. He understood.

     One by one, the rest took their leave. They all needed time to think. And probably thought it best to let Ophelia cry her bitter tears in peace. Even Cole disappeared back into the shadows. They could do no more. Soon only Thom and Dorian remained, upon which he could say nothing, but put a hand on her shoulder for a brief moment before exiting the room. Then...there was only the soft sound of sobbing to be heard.

     He sat on the floor with her, propping his arms on his elbows, and stared at the wall. What could he say? What was left to say?

     "You shouldn't have done that." sniffed Ophelia. "You should've let her kill me. It would have been just."

     "And I should be hanging by the neck in Orlais." he said. "But we're not in Orlais. And you're not dying today." he heard her sigh.

     "Not today, no. But maybe soon. Surely Cass is already working up the order to overthrow my position as Inquistor, and scheduling my execution." she chuckled half heartedly. It was Thom's turn to sigh.

     "Do you want to know why I said no?" he asked her. She looked up, her expression one of confusion. He smirked. "When you so kindly asked me to marry you."

     "Fine. I'll bite." she rubbed her eyes. "Why?"

     "Because you didn't understand what you were asking of me, my lady. You promised me to the Wardens. A life of which my first priority would be to their order. The greater good. To all of Thedas...like now, but without you in the picture. And if I married you...I could never go. To hell with what Blackwall would've wanted, love. I could never sit right with leaving you behind, no matter how important the cause. And I always assumed you understood that. That one day, our duties would have to come first. That one day, we will have to part. Until our lives could cross paths again. If they ever would." tears ran down her face. He hated himself for telling her that.

     "I did know, Thom. But that was never why I asked. I just wanted to know...if you would have said yes. If you would...ever...say yes."

     He sighed. "I would if I could, love." he said. Then she sighed. And stood up, to stand over him. She looked down at him with utter seriousness. Tear streaked face, her eyes puffy and red, her hair a bit of a tangled mess, and by the Maker she looked beautiful still.

     "Then by my right as Inquisitor, while I still have it, Thom Rainier, I release you."

     "What?!" he stood up.

     "I release you." she said again. "To make your own choice. Whether it be the Wardens, or me...or both even. Whatever." she moved over to the bed, yanked off the blood stained sheets, and plopped down onto the barren matress.

     Fuck. His choice, huh?...Maker's breath. He didn't know what to do.

     "As for the blood magic you used...I haven't forgotten. And I haven't lost count of the number of times you've saved my life either."

     "So what's your punishment then, Lady Inquisitor, for using blood magic to save the one I love?" he asked.

     "...Denying you sex, probably."

     All he could do was laugh.


	26. Inner Circle~The Spymaster

 

     Ophelia finally gathered the courage to leave her quarters. She had still been there, standing, gaping, as a scout knocked on the door to inform her that Leliana requested her presence up in her study. After taking a deep breath, she left her room to find the Spymaster.

     She was where Ophelia expected her to be. She was at her desk, going over paperwork that was sprawled out over it. She didn't look up when she spoke.

     "I have word from my scouts on what Calpernia, the leader of the so called 'Venatori', has been up to. It appears she has been searching elven ruins. Though we've yet to know what for." she said. Then she looked up.

     "I see." said Ophelia, leaning against the bannister.

     "Why do you look so surprised?" Leliana asked. She smirked. "Did you doubt that I would send for you, Ophelia?"

     She didn't call her Inquisitor. So odd, hearing her name come from Leliana's lips. But why? Was it because she no longer felt Ophelia worthy of the title? It was no surprise. But it was surprising that Cassandra had never come barelling up to her quarters sporting chains. Perhaps she still needed time to think.

     "Yes." Ophelia replied. Leliana sighed.

    "I have more information than that on Calpernia. Apparently she was investigating a man named Vicinius. Tevinter. He was found dead in his summer home in Val Royeux. He had been selling her mistreated slaves, of which Calpernia had not been too happy about. So she sicked her Venatori on him."

     "Killed him? Over slaves?" Ophelia asked.

     "It appears so. What information I have on her leads me to believe she was a slave herself...and if Corypheus freed her, no doubt that would give her cause to serve him so diligently."

     "True. But she has a conscience obviously. Avenging mistreated slaves? This doesn't really seem like an agent of the Elder One."

     "You believe she is being misled? As the Wardens and Templars were?" Leliana raised a brow.

     "It's possible." Ophelia mused. Leliana nodded.

     "We may yet find out. In Vicinius' home we recovered a crystal. Dwarven. Used sometimes to harness memories. It may contain more information that we can use. I gave it to Dagna, our Arcanist, to investigate. She may have something by tomorrow."

     Ophelia nodded. Then Leliana eyed her curiously.

     "Are you...feeling well?" she asked suddenly. Now that...was odd.

     "I uh...why do you ask?"

     "You had blood magic performed on you, Inquisitor." she said with a raised brow. And she called her Inquisitor. So she remained loyal afterall. Or at least, she appeared to. Perhaps she was waiting for everyone else to take up arms against Ophelia before she made her choice.

     "I'm fine, as far as I can tell. But I'm surprised you have nothing more to say about it. About...any of it." Ophelia folded her arms.

     "What is there to say?" Leliana cocked her head to the side. "...I just...keep thinking about our conversation in Hilamsharal. The options I gave you. The choices you made as Inquisitor. And now...I simply see it all in a different light."

     "And that's it?" asked Ophelia. "I was honest. I won't begrudge you of honesty."

     Leliana stared at the table. "You said your family covered it up...I had some of my spies acquire information on what you said...You were right. If there ever had been a murder, there is no evidence. Not even one tiny bit. They were thorough. Too thorough for even me. And I am...very good at what I do." she looked up. "But also no evidence that Lord Trevelyan was your father...either."

     "No. He wasn't. His brother is. He and my mother married in secret so that I would not be seen as a bastard child." Ophelia said regretfully.

     "And destroyed everything proving otherwise?" Ophelia nodded. "So you have no proof of your guilt. Why confess then?"

     "Because it was the right thing to do...I watched my so called 'father' do horrible things. To me and everyone around him. But that doesn't make me and better than him. Regardless of what my mother may think."

     "That is...very noble." said Leliana quietly, weighing the information Ophelia gave her. "But nobility is not all that matters in this business, Inquisitor. Sometimes you have to do the wrong thing, for the right reasons...like...keeping said information from the public, until it can be dealt with properly."

     "I...suppose so. What's your game, Spymaster?" Leliana chuckled.

     "I'm saying I don't disagree with your actions." she smirked. "What ever reason you had to do what you did, it no longer matters. What matters is that you...are here. With that mark on your hand. And I must still believe that Justinia was right to give her life for you...In fact, I do believe that."

     Ophelia shook her head. "Try convincing the Seeker that." she said. "I highly doubt she will see it that way."

     "Maybe...maybe not. Only one way to tell." Leliana said coyly. Ophelia could only chuckle, albeit a touch of sadness hitting her heart.

     "You know, when I was a little girl, I always assumed one day I would take up the family mantle. Join the Chantry...I aspired to be like you. A spymaster. Live a devout cloak and dagger sort of life." she smiled half heartedly.

     "You would've been suited for it." Leliana chuckled. "You're quite good at keeping secrets. Of course until meddling men get involved."

     "Dorian...and Blackwall?" Leliana nodded.

     "Is that why you spared his life? The real reason?" the Spymaster sat back in her seat. Crossing her arms...staring intently at Ophelia.

     "It is. He had been spending his life trying to make up for his mistakes. Albeit, living that life as another man, but...Now he has the opportunity to atone as himself. People make mistakes, Leliana. You don't think it right to give someone a second chance? At least one?" Ophelia stepped toward her as she spoke.

     "I do, Inquisitor. Now...we must see if you get yours." she answered.

     Ophelia could only hope. Andraste help her. And Maker guide her.

     "You should go for a drink, Inquisitor. You look like you need one."

     That she did.


	27. Inner Circle~Friend of Red Jenny

     Sera had made her home upstairs in the Tavern, and right now, it was in shambles. It would've been comical, if not for Ophelia being concerned for her.

     She was pacing in her room when Ophelia strolled up with a bottle of wine from the bar. She had intended on drinking the bottle herself but when she heard the sound of furniture and boxes scuffing the floor, and fervent steps, she ambled upstairs with it.

     "Are...you alright?" she asked as she stood in the doorway. Sera laughed then, a bit nervously.

     "I should be askin' you that, right, Lady Herald?" she wrung her hands as she paced. "I mean, that was a pretty big load of shite ya dumped on everyone, yeh?"

     "Yes, I suppose it was."

     "And it will have all the big people talkin' for months about it, of it gets out, then." she shook her head. "We've all done some shite, Quiz. I get that. Nun of us are perfect are we? We're all just uh bunch of tits tryna keep it all together. Nuthin too special about any of us. Even you I guess. But thats good, yeh? Makes you just the same as the rest. And not so 'big and scary' and all." she grinned. "Plus its kinda hot, you havin' past..." she winked.

     Ophelia chuckled. "Well I'm glad you accept it. It's...encouraging." she sighed. "But now what exactly is wrong then?" she asked.

     Sera let out an exasperated groan as she plopped in her chair. "It's just not fair is all!" she said. "You...you made a bloody idiot of yourself, didn't you?...And you've still got your 'ole Warden'! Being acceptin' of you an' such!...and I...well," she sighed. "I said too much, didn't I?"

     "Wait...what?" Sera hung her head.

     "It's just...it's just that, ya know...bloody hell, Herald! Every one bein' happy an' all...everybody bein'...'in luv', and..." she looked like she was going to cry. "Aw this is STUPID!" she spat.

     "Sera..." Ophelia put a hand on the elf's shoulder. "Please tell me what's wrong so I can help."

     She sniffed. "Yeh, cuz that's what you do, in' it? You help everyone. Well you're outta luck, lady. Ya can't help me with this...no one can. It's my own stupid fault." she rubbed her eyes.

     "You said...'in love'. What did you mean by all that?" Sera looked up.

     "Because I want the same thing, don't I? Its stupid, and pointless, but its another one of those stupid, pointless little things we all fight for right? So why can't I have it too?" she asked, teary eyed.

     "There's nothing wrong with wanting love, Sera." Ophelia assured her. "Stupid and pointless, sometimes, yes. But still quite alright to want...it makes alot of things better. So it's alright." she patted her, trying to comfort her.

     "Not if it's the wrong person...not if that person doesn't luv you back, right?" tears streamed down her cheeks then.

     "By the Maker...Lady Vivienne?" Ophelia asked, taken aback when Sera nodded.

     "And we barely have anything in common! She's all Circle this...and Circle that! And mages and magic and silly stuff!...But she's nice and...she snuck up to the roof with me, I told her about the folks who raised me and the baker and the cookies and all that and..."

     "Cookies?" Ophelia's brow crinkled in curiosity and she smiled a little. This girl was certainly strange.

    "Long story." she said. "...and she liked the cookies I made her. I think she was lying. But it felt good. Made me feel better. That's what mattered."

     "But I don't-"

     "I know. You don't get it. I don't get it either. How could I be so stupid to open myself like that...and she don't even love me back?!"

     "How do you know?" said a voice from the door. They both looked up. It was...Vivenne. Maker's breath.

     "How long have you been standing there?" Sera asked her, shakily, nervous and embarrassed.

     "Sera, I..." Viv began.

     "Don't say it!" snapped Sera. "I don't want to hear your-"

     "Dear girl!" said Viv, frustrated. "You don't even know what I was going to say!" she crossed her arms. "...Inquisitor." she turned to Ophelia. "This is...rather embarrassing."

     "Not any more embarrassing than the other day, Vivienne." Ophelia chided.

     "True." she mused. Then she turned to face Sera again, who stood up and folded her arms.

    "Right then!" Sera snapped. "Go on, say it! Say how stupid I am!"

    "Sera-"

    "How much of an idiot I've been-"

    "Sera?"

    "-And all about how I 'got the wrong idea about our friendship'!"

     "Sera, I love you!" those words stopped the elf. She gaped at Viv.

     "...What?!" Viv walked over to her, slowly, and gracefully. She put a hand up to her tear stained face.

     "You weren't wrong, you aren't stupid, and...I do love you back, my dear. I just...never could've said it before." she brushed away a tear.

     "But...but we're so different." Sera stuttered.

     "And that's why I love you." she kissed her then.

     Ophelia thought it best to leave. She left the bottle of wine, and closed the door quietly behind her. She never would have guessed...but happy that her little friend of Red Jenny found her love. Maybe Ophelia should find hers.

     Iron Bull stopped her. He had come up the stairs, and he didn't look to enthusiastic.

     "The uh...Seeker asked me to pass the word along. Everyone's gathering up in the keep. To talk about you, boss." he glanced at Sera's door. "I'll uh...I'll let them know in a few. You'd better go." Ophelia nodded.

     It seemed it was time to face the music.


	28. Jury Of Her Peers

     Ophelia inhaled, then exhaled slowly. She gathered her courage. In the main hall the Inner Circle waited. To ask questions. To get answers. To judge her, for her crime. Last time it was Thom Rainier being judged. This time it was her. With her secrets finally free. Her heart lay open.

     No doubt the whole keep was curious of the affair, but when Ophelia entered the hall, Cullen locked the door behind her, and everyone but them was barred entry. Even the castle guard. The same as Thom. This would be a jury of her peers. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

     Cassandra was there. Her eyes were red. This had been very emotional for her. And even though she held a grim and serious expression now, Ophelia could see the pain in her eyes.

     "Please sit." said the Seeker, gesturing to the throne.

     "There?" Ophelia pointed, quite surprised.

     "As of this moment, until a decision has been made, you are still the Inquisitor. And that seat is yours." said Cass. Ophelia shook her head.

     "No." she moved to sit down on the steps of the alter, below the throne. "You will judge me today. But not as Inquisitor." she said as she sat. "Today, I will be judged as Ophelia Trevelyan, of Ostwick." she looked up. "A woman no better than any of you."

     Sera nodded in approval. So did Bull. No one seemed to have a problem with that.

     "Alright then." said Cass. She walked over to Ophelia, arms crossed. "You have confessed to the murder of Lord Trevelyan. What have you to say about it?"

     Ophelia took a deep breath. "I killed him yes." she said. She clasped her hands together.

     "And you have no evidence proving your innocence, or guilt? Either one?" Cass asked her.

     "There is nothing." spoke Leliana. Cass turned to her. "I investigated the matter. There is no evidence, and they deny that it was murder. They persist that it was an accident. And they have not connected Ophelia to his death in anyway." Cass nodded.

     "Then tell me _why_ , Ophelia. _Why_  you would confess to a murder that only you have claimed to have committed." Cass pleaded. A bit of emotion in her eyes.

     "Truthfully?...In part, to make you understand." she said solemnly. "Why I do what I do. What I believe...and...because it was right. All my family cared about was how much of a scandal it would be if anyone found out. So they hid it all behind the curtain..."

     "But why confess now?!" Cass demanded, getting emotional, fists clenching. "Why wouldn't you tell us this sooner?!" she had tried to remain calm but simply couldn't. No one could blame her.

     Ophelia hung her head. "It's not that I didn't want to, Cassandra." she held put her hand. "This...mark. This is what mattered to me. I had always thought that running had been the answer. Running as far away from my family and my troubles. Because I didn't want to be like them. But I was wrong. I am no better...no matter how hard I try...and this mark. I thought of it as a second chance. _My_  second chance." she glanced at Leliana, who understood. "Because, like you, Seeker," she looked back at Cass. "I have to believe that it happened for a reason. But...unlike you, I'm no devout Chantry member. No. I am just some girl from Ostwick paying a debt." she sighed. "And now you've heard my say. I want to hear theirs." she gestured to everyone there.

     Cass looked at all of them. Patiently waiting for one of them to speak. Sera was the first.

     "Look, I'm no hero." she said. "I think everybody knows that. My 'friends' aren't some shiny armored nobles with feathery locks an' such. Leave all that shite for poets and bards...And seein' as the Lady Herald aint one either? Makes me feel good. I mean, shit. Demons fallin' out of the sky? Takin over the world? Real shit. And here all the big people are still fighting over land an' money, and we've got a Herald that cares about more important stuff. Like using that mark to keep the world together. Should it matter what she did before she got it?"

     "Agreed." said Bull, the next to speak. "I'll tell ya, boss. I never would've guessed you'd have all that shit stuffed in your closet, but...it doesn't change anything."  
  
     "So you're just going to follow blindly?" asked Cullen.

     "I'm not saying that, featherhead." glared Bull. "But if we turn her away now, all we're doing is letting the bad guys win."

     "That's not what I meant!" said Cullen, angrily. "I agree, we can't turn her away! We need her! But we can't let her crime go unpunished!" he menaced.

     "Look at her, Cullen!" said Leliana. "I think she's been punishing herself over it, far more than any of us would!" she crossed her ams.

     "I never thought that you, of all people, would be on _her_  side!" Cass said to her.

     "And what's wrong with that?" Viv piped up. "I am. We have similar ideals, and regardless of her past, I have yet to see where it proves her unfit as Inquisitor. This isn't Orlais, Seeker. We're not surrounded by dignitaries, we are surrounded by stone walls. All of us are fighting the same battle."

     "Are you sure your standing isn't biased, Lady Vivienne?" asked Josephine, curious. Viv turned to gape at her.

     "What?"

     "Sera sides with the Inquisitor, and it's rather obvious you two are...close." she taunted. Viv stepped toward her.

     "I would watch my tongue, if I were you, Montilyet." said Viv. "I don't need my staff to incapacitate you." she smirked a little.

     "Whoa...easy ladies." said Varric. "Look, everybody's entitled to their opinion..."

     "But bias is not quite the same as general opinion is it?!" scathed Cullen.

     "Shut it, Ruffles!" Varric spat. "You're just pissed because your elf girlfriend left you!"

     "She didn't leave me!" Cullen said. "We flirted! Nothing more! And it has nothing to do with it!"

     "Whatever...If that's how you want to tell it...Doesn't matter. What matters is-" Varric gestured to Ophelia as he spoke. "We've seen her close rifts. With our own eyes. And as far as we know, she's the only one that can do that. I know better than anyone what we're up against...Hawke and I dealt with Corypheus before...turns out he's alot harder to kill than we figured. And if anyone's got a chance at fixing anything...It's her."

     "It's true, she can close rifts." said Solas. "But we cannot deviate away from the facts. Right now her mark is still necessary. The Inquisition is necessary. But she has committed a crime, so she says. So how do we deal with that?"

     "What would you suggest?" asked Cass. Solas looked at her.

     "She and I...have our differences. Though we have also come to terms with them. Regardless, I do not think that my experience should interfere with the decision. To be...unbiased, I must suggest that due punishment is served...after the Elder One is dealt with."

     No one could disagree with that.

     "I see." said Cass. She stared at the floor for a moment. "Sera, Lady Vivienne, the Iron Bull, and...Varric," there was a little angst when she said his name, obviously hating that he sided with Ophelia. "Appear to side with the Inquisitor. As do you, Leliana?" she nodded. Cass sighed. "Dorian? What say you?" he smirked.

     "I saved her life before I knew about all this...but I would do it again, if I had to, Seeker. I have not forgotten why I am here. Honestly, I could've ran back to the Imperium if I wanted, but no. Instead, I showed up at Haven, to warn you all of the Elder One. Don't make me regret that." he turned to the others.

     "And...Cole?" she looked around. "Where is he?"

     "I don't want to hurt her." he said from behind Cass, making her jump.

     "Blasted demon..." she muttered under her breath. "Blackwall?" she looked at Thom. He had been sitting the whole time, elbows on his knees, hands clasped, staring at the floor as they bickered.

      "You already know my answer." he said, then he stood up. "And you're outvoted, Seeker." he looked around at all of them. "So unless invisible people start crawling out of the rafters to sway the vote, I'd wager this matter is concluded." he crossed his arms.

     "So...it is." said Cass. She looked as if she were about to cry. Without saying another word, she tore out of the main hall. Everyone watched her leave, abashed by her behavior.

     "Inquisitor." said Cullen as he bowed to Ophelia to take his leave. Josephine curtsied politely and went back to her office, and Solas took his leave as well. Those who were left standing were people who saw Ophelia's true colors and yet...still believed in her. All of them, looking to her. She buried her face in her hands and breathed deep.

     "Why?" she asked them. "When you know it's wrong? Why still follow?" she asked them.

     "Because it's _not_  wrong." said Thom. "And they know that. They just don't want to admit it...and because without mercy, my lady, we're no better than the dogs we fight." she looked up. She couldn't argue.

     "So, uh...do you think they'll leave?" asked Bull.

     "Nah." answered Varric. "They'll just be sore for a little while."

     "The Inquisition is too important for them to walk away from." said Leliana.

     "Yeh, but the Seeker though." said Sera. "She looked pretty tore up, Herald." Yes. She did.

     Ophelia stood up and started to leave. "I have to talk to her."

     "She may not see reason, my dear." said Viv.

     "I don't care." Ophelia left the hall, left her followers to stand there, all of them taken by surprise at her emotions. In shock, and silence.

     ...Ophelia found Cass out by the armory, slashing at a practice target with her big, shining sword. She was heated, red faced, taking her anger and angst out on the target. She nearly cut it on two, flecks of wood flying everywhere.

     "That supposed to be me?" Ophelia asked. Cass turned around and threw her sword into the dirt and walked over.

     "You lied to me!" she said in tears. "From the beginning!...How am I supposed to follow you? To trust you?!"

     "Because I'm the same person as I was then!" Ophelia snapped. "Nothing's changed!"

     "Yes it has!" Cass spewed, venomously. "I _believed_ in you! I always believed you were trully blessed! If not by Andraste herself, then by some way! Somehow! And I....I thought of you as more than a leader, Inquisitor!...I looked to you as a _friend_!...And I should _kill_ you myself!" she got in Ophelia's face, and so did she. They were almost nose to nose.

     "Is that what you want to do, Cass?! Fight right here in front of all those people over there?!" people had been gawking, everyone becoming curious of the Seeker and the Herald.

     "No! I want things how they were! _Before_ all this! I want the person I pulled from the temple! The woman that I put in chains, who _proved_ her worth to me! Who proved she had nothing to do with Divine Justinia's death! The woman she _saved_! The woman I fought next to in battle at Haven!...I...I don't want all this!" she looked her up and down.

     "I'm _still_ that same woman!" Ophelia pressed. "And I promise you, I will spend the REST of my life proving that to you!" she started to tear up, the anger leaving her. "I was fifteen, Cass!...I was just a child! A stupid, stupid, _hurting_ child! And the pain of what I saw...what I _did_...it made me who I am!" she choked up.

     Tears fell from the Seeker's cheeks. She didn't want to be angry. Neither did Ophelia. There was too much between them to just leave it like this. And Cassandra was distraught. She didn't know what to do. She just stared at her feet, shaking. In pain. Without a second thought, Ophelia wrapped her in her arms and hugged her tightly. And she...hugged her back. Underneath the armor, the sword and shield, and the anger, was a hurting woman. And Ophelia understood. She had hurt most of her life, but...those small moments of light in between...they made up for it. Cass pulled away a little.

     "I...need some time." she said, then she rubbed her eyes. "I...I never thought it would be like this. But, now I understand why Thom loves you the way he does...and, you him. Why...you forgave him."

     "I will always forgive, Cass." Ophelia looked her in the eye. "But...now I ask it of you. I will never lie to you again. I have nothing left to hold back..." she teared up again. "I have nothing left in my heart."

     Cassandra Pentaghast embraced her again, and they quietly sobbed away their sorrows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I absolutely adore Cass as a character, and I have a lot of the feels for her and Ophelia's struggle as friends. I wanted to show a more emotional side to her in this story, and deviate a bit from the usual roughness to her exterior. I enjoyed writing this, and I hope you guys got a kick out if it too.)


	29. Inner Circle~Qunari

     That night, after the 'trial' held in the keep, Blackwall slept with Ophelia in her quarters. And every night after. Perhaps he just wanted to enjoy as much time with her as he could before he chose to leave to join the Wardens, or perhaps that was his way of showing her he had chosen her. She didn't know. He never said. But one thing was for certain, he wasn't afraid of being with her any longer. And he didn't hold back.

     And they had left for Caer Oswin, the rumored location of the Lord Seeker. She, and Thom, and Cassandra Pentaghast, searched the territory for him. And as they travelled, she told Cass everything. She had promised, no more secrets. And Cass did the same. As it turned out, they weren't so different. Cass had been running from her family lagacy as well, hiding behind Chantry walls most of her adult life. Hiding behind her sword, and the bitterness in her heart.

     And when they found the Lord Seeker, who had been yet another ensnared by the Elder One's plotting, they defeated him together. And they avowed the Elder One would be next. They were getting closer to him, bit by bit, step by step. They had discovered through the dwarven crystal that he planned to use Calpernia as a vessel, for what they didn't know, but Ophelia guessed that he planned on finishing what he started with the Anchor.

     Ophelia had hoped to find out soon enough.

     ...She walked through the courtyard. The sun was shining, there were no clouds in the sky. A warm breeze touched her face. It was mid summer, she guessed. There was no one around, the castle completely empty. Where had everyone gone? Flowers bloomed, everything was rich and green, and birds chirped nearby...out of the corner of her eye something moved.

     It was a little boy. He was all alone. He had been sitting on the grass, playing. He stood up and turned around when she approached him, and when he turned...dark hair...dark eyes, brows furrowing...she had seen those eyes before. The sadness in them...Those were Thom's eyes.

     "Momma." said the boy as he held out his hand, smiling. Ophelia gasped. And then she woke up...

     ...The War Room. There, in it, a table on which a map of all Thedas was stretched across. She leaned against the table, staring intently at it. The Inquisition's influence spread from Ferelden to the Western Approach. Orlesian nobles had disputes to settle, Avvar and Qunari clans had claims to stake, information and arms to offer, scouts needed rescued, ruins need investigated. It was all marked on the map. The only thing missing, the location of the Elder One, and what he and the Venatori were after.

     The illusive Morrigan, royal adviser to Celine, was in Orlais, but would be arriving any day, hopefully with information they could use. They stretched their resources thin...but with luck, perhaps this battle would be won. Especially with the Inner Circle staving their fighting amongst one another for the moment.

     There was a knock on the door. It was Iron Bull. He entered, casually walking over to stand next to her, crossing his arms. His shining horns all the much bigger, and intimidating.

     "So, boss." he said. "Things are going back to normal...sort of." he smirked.

     "Sort of?" she said as she grinned.

     "Yeah, sort of. You would not believe some of the crazy shit I hear at the inn." he chuckled. "The little mini egghead's due any day now, and Solas and his girl might be tying the knot. Better late than never, I guess...Oh and the Templar's little girlfriend is back. They're supposed to be getting married too, so they say."

     "Really?" she eyed the Qunari in interest.

     "Yep...won't be any time soon though. Word is, she's only fifteen. Heh. Featherhead might be waiting a while." he smirked. "Folks have a funny way about that stuff. I don't get it. We Qunari...we're much different...So, how ya holding up?"

     "I'm fine...I suppose." she said.

     "Fine? That's it?" Bull shook his head. "You had a lot to unload, boss. And alot if craziness happened. Pretty big thing you did, telling everybody about your past."

     "And you don't think I should have?"

     "Don't get it twisted. I'm glad you did. But people in my line of work don't just throw all their cards on the table so quick." he scratched his head. "And blood magic? That's some serious shit too."

     Ophelia nodded in agreement. Then she stood strait up and folded her arms.

     "It was."

     "And you were pretty pissed at your boyfriend about it too." he cocked his head to the side in curiosity. "How come?"

     Ophelia raised a brow. "He knew I never would have allowed it. I had been tempted once before to use it on myself, and reverse what was done to me. He talked me out of it...and then he turned around and used it to bring me back." she sighed. "I don't blame him though. He did it to save me, despite how I felt about it."

     Bull chuckled. "Awfully brave of him. Boss, you looked like you were going to kill him...and I've seen you fight. Bad...very bad idea to piss you off." it was Ophelia's turn to laugh.

     But the laugh was short lived. All too suddenly, she felt lightheaded. She started to faint.

     "Whoa, boss." said Bull as he caught her. "You alright? You don't look too hot."

     "I'm...I'm fine..." No. No she wasn't, she turned away to avoid vomiting on Bull's boot.

     "Come on." he said understandingly. "Let's get you upstairs."


	30. Inner Circle~The Diplomat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (contains info only obtained in Josephine's personal quest, "Of Somewhat Fallen Fortune")

     "Morning sickness." said Josephine.

     "Morning sickness?!" Ophelia almost wanted to faint again. She had been up in her room with the healers for almost an hour as they had tried to ascertain what exactly was wrong with her. They had no luck. But Lady Montilyet, curious as to what was happening, had appeared, and within moments began shoeing away the healers. Apparently, though they knew enough about bandaging battle injuries, they knew nothing about pregnancy.

     But Ophelia? Pregnant?

     "Yes." said Josephine, matter of factly. "I've seen it a hundred times." she smirked at Ophelia's shocked expression. "I have sisters, you know...and cousins, and aunts, and a plethra of other relatives. I'm no midwife...but I'd stake my life on it." she nodded.

     All Ophelia could do was gape at her. It wasn't possible...or was it? Could it be that the spell that Dorian cast on her had reversed the effects of the previous?...And that dream she had...could it really be possible?

     No. No...it couldn't be.

     "And you're absolutely sure?"

     "Well, what else could it be? You are in perfect health, not so much as a scar from being mauled by that dragon...and you said you haven't had much of an appetite, correct?" Ophelia nodded. "And I have received no reports that the food being shipped to Skyhold has been tainted...and you say you haven't had a drink in weeks either, correct?" again, Ophelia nodded.

     "Well, unless it is some unexpected magic caused by your mark...it has to be. I mean...you and Monsuer Rainer are...physical, yes?" Josephine almost blushed at asking her such a personal thing. Ophelia was still shocked by the idea, and had been gaping at her. And rather surprised by her.

     "Your Worship, you...do know how that works, don't you?" Ophelia could only chuckle.

     "Yes." she said. "I just...I'm surprised at your concern for me, that's all. You know, what with the 'trial' and all."

     Josephine sighed, and then moved to gently sit on the bed next to her, most ladylike.

     "You know, everything happened so fast, Inquisitor. I never got the chance to give you _my_  opinion on the matter...and I admit, it is not something I would have wished to discuss in front of the others. I prefer... _discretion_."

     "I would not mind that, Josephine." Ophelia said earnestly.

     She took a breath. "As you well know, I am not unfamiliar with dealings with the Court in Orlais. But I must tell you how that came to be...I was a bard once."

     "You? A bard? I didn't know you could sing." she smirked.

     "Bards entertain the Orlesian court, they put on a mask, they play, and sing, and...spy." she said. "Many young nobles will put on a mask and practice playing the Game in such a fashion." she sighed. "I always saw it as romantic, really. The secrets, the trists, and fascinating people...A group of us, young gentries from Antivan, decided this...exciting life was for us." her words seemed heavy. As romantic as it sounded, it must've also been sad.

     Josephine continued. "On one particular occasion...there was a bard, sent to kill my patron. We fought...or, perhaps 'scrapped' is the better word. Both of us terrified...We were at the top of a flight of stairs. The other bard pulled out a knife...I pushed him away from me..." there was emotion in her voice. "He fell. You can imagine the result...and when I pulled his mask off...Inquisitor, I _knew_ him. We had attended parties together. And maybe if I had stopped to reason...if I used my voice instead of scuffling like a common thug..."

     "I'm sorry Josephine." she put a hand in her shoulder. "You were only defending yourself."

     "I tell myself that." she said solemnly. "I always wonder, if that had not happened. What kind of man would he have become?" she sighed. "My reason for telling you this, Inquisitor. I was forced to accept how the Game is played a long time ago. And...I think you were too. You just didn't know you were playing it."

     She wiped away the smallest, most subtle tear from her face. Then she breathed in an out, letting out a sigh.

     "But now, we have other things to worry about." she said, forcing a smile. "You, Lady Trevelyan, are pregnant. And this is an entirely different game." that made Ophelia chuckle. How she adored this woman. Though she had been part of a world that Ophelia had been trying to escape from, she was a woman of heart. And that made her better. It comforted Ophelia.

     "What's going on?" asked a voice from the top of the stairs. It was Thom. "My lady, are you alright?"

     "I should go." said Josephine. "You two have much to discuss." she curtsied, and left the room in the same flourishing manner upon which she had entered.

     Leaving Ophelia alone with this man.

    


	31. "Who Will Protect You?"

     Thom walked over to stand in front of Ophelia, a look of worry plastered all over his face.

     "You've got to stop doing this to me." he said. "Making me constantly worry like this." he shook his head. "You have me completely backwards right now."

     Ophelia breathed slowly before she spoke. "It may...possibly get worse." she said. He crouched in front of her, placing his hands in hers.

     "That's not exactly what I wanted to hear." he raised a brow.

     "No...I'm fine...I just." How was she supposed to tell him?...She supposed he would find out sooner or later. But she rather it be from her. How angry would he be, should he find out another way? No. It had to be her.

    "I...Thom, I think I may be..." she let out an exasperated sigh. Why was this so hard?! "I may possibly be...with child." There. She said it. And his face turned white.

     He stood up abruptly. "What?!" That couldn't have been a good sign. "How...is that possible?" he asked. He started pacing.

     "I don't know. Blood magic maybe? Perhaps whatever Dorian did...it reversed what had been done." she tried to remain calm, keep the worry...and excitement from her voice. She got up from the bed.

     He looked at her with confusion. "You're...you're being serious?!"

     "I wouldn't lie to you about something like this!" she said angrily. So much for keeping calm. "I know how much it means to you...How much it...changes everything." he stepped toward her. "I know how it feels to be lied to, Thom! Or have you forgotten? I would never-"

     He cut her off by pulling her close and kissing her. He cupped her face in his hands, as he had done so many times before. He touched his forehead to hers. By the Maker she hoped Josephine was right...but part of her wished it wasn't true. News like this...made everything they were doing all the more dangerous.

     "That's it." he said suddenly, pulling away. "Pack your things. We're leaving."

     "What?"

     "I said...we're leaving." he glared. "Did I stutter?"

     "I got that." she snapped. "But why?"

     "Because, Ophelia Trevelyan, you and I are deserting." he said. "No more. Of any of this. We are leaving, going somewhere far away, where you..." he glanced at her stomach..."both are safe."

     "But we can't! We can't just drop everything, can we?"

     "Like hell we can't. I'm not having you put yourself in unnecessary danger!" he started pacing again as he glared at her. Was that a thing they did? Start pacing when they'd like to kill each other but knew they couldn't? Amusing thought.

     "Thom." she walked over to him, tried to put a hand on his shoulder. "Please. We can't leave!" he got in her face, making her step back instinctively.

     "My lady," he said quietly, "I've killed soldiers and demons alike, and shoved a sword down a dragon's throat. Don't argue with me." he said a little too calmly. It was fairly intimidating. She sighed.

     "I know. And I know that you _will_  protect me. If anything happens-"

     "Will I?" he asked. "When all is said and done, do you really think I can?"

     "Yes." she replied.

     "Then let me do that now." he brought his hand up to her face. To brush her cheek. Cradle her head in his hands. She could see the love, and sorrow in his eyes. Like the eyes in her dreams.

     "I promise, I will choose you." he said. It made her start to cry, hearing that. "But don't do this. Don't choose pride. Don't choose what you think is doing the right thing. Because it isn't, my lady...Not when everything that hangs in the balance is ripped away from us."

     She sniffed. "And what about your pride?!" she remarked. "What about everything Warden Blackwall started?"

     "And what of you releasing me?!" he shook his head. "You always knew I would choose you if I could. And now...you don't want me to? Is that what your saying?"

    "No!...I don't...I don't know." she flopped back down on the bed. Thom leaned against the bannister, crossing his arms. Brow furrowed, in the usual manner. They were both silent for some time. Then he sighed. He stared at the floor as he spoke.

     "When I first met you, I thought you were probably some silly little girl that thought it would be fun joining the Inquisition. Probably never left home before, and thought it would be an adventure. I joined because I thought you needed protection...forget whatever I said at the time...But then I found out who you were. What you meant to the world...You didn't need me. You, a woman who crawled out of demon infested fuckery and lived?" he snorted. "But I loved you. And a hundred times I wanted to tell you who I really was, and couldn't. Then you learned the truth. Then you told me the truth about you...You're not a child, Ophelia. There is a part of you that will never need my protection. A part of you that is stronger than you may realize." he sighed, then he walked over to stand above her once more.

     "But there is a part of you that does. And maybe I'm being foolish to think that I could make you leave. Treat you like a child when you aren't one...Regardless of how I feel, my lady, you lead this army. You make the choice. I can't make it for you can I?" Ophelia held her face in her hands. She didn't want to look up, didn't want him to see the fear in her eyes. But she did anyway.

     "No...I suppose you can't."

     "Then we stay?"

     "We stay."

     Thom Rainier sat on the bed beside her and pulled her into his arms. Holding her as tightly as he could.

     "I believe in you, as much as you believe in me, Thom. I know you will protect us...but who will protect you?"

     He sighed. "Maker protect us all."

    


	32. A Family Affair

     "House Trevelyan is asking for the aid of the Inquisition, Your Worship...and given your circumstances, I thought you should know first." said Josephine, as she sat at her desk, eyeing the papers she had recieved.

     "I see." was all Ophelia could say. Josephine looked up then, brushing her black curls from her face. She had a look of worry.

     "I mean really...it's nothing but...They are sending an 'Ambassador'."

     "They are? Why in Thedas would they do that?!" Ophelia shook her head. If her family was having a land dispute, or something trivial, why would they send an envoy? She looked at the letter on the desk. Then her heart skipped a beat.

     It was her mother.

     Josephine sighed. "Apperently Madame Trevelyan believes that a personal touch will benefit the Inquisition's reputation...As well as the Trevelyan's." she stated.

     "She has a point." nodded Ophelia. "But she would not come herself, unless it was something personal...to do with me."

     "Well you've...made quite a splash, Your Worship. What with our appearance in Hilamsharal...and other places. Not just drawing attention to the Inquisition, but yourself as well..."

     "My mother has had plenty of opportunities to show her face, Josephine. But why now?" Ophelia crossed her arms.

     "I haven't the faintest idea." said Josephine plainly.

     Ophelia thanked Josephine for the information, and the woman nodded as she exited her office. She walked out in quite the flush. Surely her mother would have no cause to come to Skyhold personally. No doubt she realized the danger. And also how fruitless her effort would be. Ophelia had no intention of speaking to her.

     She walked down the steps and down the path to the stables. She knew Thom would be there. And sure enough he was, lightly dressed in the summer weather, with only a tunic, sleeves rolled up, and trousers neatly tucked in his big black boots. He was outside, chopping wood on a block. And my goodness it was shamefully attractive.

     Sweat beaded his forehead. Every muscle in his body tightened.

     "Planning on making something new?" she asked him as she strolled over, then gestured to the rocking horse sitting nearby at his curious expression. The thing had been thoroughly played with, and looked like it needed new paint. He chuckled.

     "Perhaps." he glanced at her stomach. "I don't know what it will be yet. Hard to make toys for someone you haven't met yet." he wiped the sweat from his brow.

     He saw the look on her face.

     "What's bothering you, love?" he asked.

     "Nothing." he smirked.

     "You're lying. Something's bothering you. What is it?"

     "How do you know I'm lying?" she asked him.

     He chuckled. "There's a thing you do with your nose when you're lying." she raised an eyebrow at his words then leaned against a post.

     "Fair enough..." she sighed. "I was told the Trevelyans were coming to Skyhold. One in particular...my mother."

    "I know." he said as he picked up another piece of wood. She stood up straight then, and eyed him.

     "What do you mean you know?!" she asked brazenly.

     "Because I'm the one who sent for her."

     She wanted to hit him...Why did he have to do things like this?...

     "Why would you do that?!" she asked, unable to control her apparent anger. That made him stop what he was doing and walk over to her.

    "Don't be upset with me." he said as he put his hands up, almost defensively. "It wouldn't be good for the-"

     "Is everything alright?" someone asked. It was Dorian. He had actually tore himself away from that dusty library, and no doubt heard Ophelia speaking angrily when he appoached. Thom let out a sigh. They both turned around to look at him. And of course, not only did they see Dorian, but also Cassandra coming down the bank, headed towards them. As per usual lately, a look of worry on her face.

     "Is it true?" she asked she was in earshot. Then it was Ophelia's turn to sigh.

     "Is what true?" Dorian asked her.

     "That Lady Trevelyan will be arriving at Skyhold...and that the Inquisitor...is with child." she stated. Dorian raised his eyebrows. Then he turned to Ophelia.

     "Lady Montilyet is worse than I am at keeping secrets, apparently." said Cass.

     "Wait I thought that wasn't possible." Dorian shook his head in confusion.

     "Whatever we did reversed it." said Thom, blatantly, obviously feeling there was no point in hiding it.

     "So it is true." said Cass, a look of surprise plastered all over the Seeker's face. Ophelia hung her head. Surely this wouldn't be good.

     "But that was not the magic's intent, Blackwall." said Dorian. "It was only meant to heal her wound."

     "Well it certainly healed more than that." said Thom. He crossed his arms.

     "I am gathering it was not intentional then." said Cass to Thom, leaning her head to the side. She still looked like she wanted to kill him, but Ophelia was still trying to figure out why. "And you." Cass turned to Ophelia. "Are we really to continue keeping secrets like this?"

     Ophelia sighed. "I was going to tell you, Cassandra. But I had to be sure first." she tried to ignore the disturbing look Thom gave her. "We only have Josephine's word to go on...It's too early to tell." she admitted. By the Maker it was embarrassing to talk about.

     "Let's ask him then." said Dorian, pointing to someone behind them. And of course, Cole stepped out if the shadows from within the stables. He had been quietly listening the whole time.

     "As if this isn't disturbing enough." said Thom, shaking his head.

     Under the brim of his hat, Ophelia could almost see a faint smile curling on Cole's lips. He slowly approached, holding out his hand toward her.

     "It's so different..." he muttered quietly. Then he moved to crouch next to Ophelia, turning his head to the side, as if he would press his ear against her stomach.

     "...It doesn't have thoughts." he said. "Maybe it doesn't know how to yet...but it has feelings...warmth...comfort...feeling it's mother's heart beat..." then he disappeared... and reappeared nearby, sitting on the fence post. "It's so small...and fragile." he whispered.

     Everyone was surprised, including Ophelia. It hit hard then...It was real. All of it...The boy in her dream...the son of Thom Rainier...looking up at her, holding out his hand, smiling...

     "This...raises another question." said Cass, tentatively. She approached Ophelia gently, searching for words. "Ophelia, you said so yourself that you avoided having a child to keep this child from your family, and..." she sighed. "And now the Trevelyans are coming to Skyhold. This will effect everything. Everything we've been working for...Everything you have done-"

     "Hold a moment, Seeker." Thom put up a hand to stop her words. "We're not having this conversation again."

     "What conversation?" asked Ophelia, oblivious.

     "The one where you suggest that Ophelia is unfit for Inquisitor." said Thom, to Cassandra. The Seeker raised her brow.

     "And you're suggesting she is?!" Cass steped toward him, glaring at him.

     "I'm not saying that. Infact, I won't lie. I tried to talk her into leaving." he said. "But the bloody woman won't. She won't abandon your Inquisition!" he spat. "You should be proud." he said cynically.

     "I'm not!" stated Cass. "You can't put an unborn child into the danger we may face!"

     Cole appeared behind Cass. "But you will protect her...we all can protect her...She won't do it alone." he said softly.

     "Will you STOP DOING THAT!" Cass raged. It would have been funny, without the gravity of the situation.

     "But the boy is right, Cassandra." said Dorian. "We've been doing it for months. Why stop now? If this brute goes along with it..." he nodded to Thom, who...rolled his eyes. He hung his head, an admission of defeat, and agreement.

     "I have no choice." said Ophelia. "If I were turn away now, it would ruin our reputation. And you know that. And I fully intend on putting all this to rest, same as you."

     Cass groaned in frustration. "But it was one thing to find out the silly business of Solas' lover being with child. Twins no less!" she said. "But an entirely different matter with this...And the Trevelyans...What are they even doing here? What sort of trouble will they cause?"

     "None." said Blackwall. "I sent for them."

     "What?!" Dorian bursted with laughter. "And you still live?" he looked at Ophelia. "You certainly have alot of patience, darling." he said with a grin.

     "But why?" asked Cass.

     "That is between myself and the Inquisitor." replied Blackwall.

     "Oh no no no." said Dorian. "You're not keeping this from us now, Rainier. Do tell." he didn't even try to hide his mischievous grin. Blackwall shook his head.

     "Not doing it." he said.

     "Well you're no fun are you?" Dorian pouted. "Give us a hint at least."

     "This is no time for jesting, Pavus." said Cass, clearly still disturbed by it all. And certainly not put at ease by anything said.

    "You'll find out soon..." muttered Cole. "She's here."

    "Who's here?!" demanded Cass.

    "Mother...mother is here..." he looked at the gate, then disappeared.

     Not seconds later a guard shouted down at them. "An envoy approaches! Trevelyan banner, Inquisitor!"

     Shit. Just what she needed. She must've left as soon as the messenger was sent their way. Without delay.

     "Open the gate!" Ophelia called up to the guard. She made a mental note to kill Thom when they were in private.


	33. To Have It Your Way

     Lady Trevelyan's arrival at the keep left everyone in a rush of exitement. Despite the decadence of Orlesians, there was something notable about warm, homely, Free Marches nobility. They were certainly not something to be ignored. Ophelia supposed that the nobles from Orlais were no doubt scoffing the quaintness of the Trevelyan family, but that had never stopped them. And certainly wouldn't today.

     Preparations were made, and while they waited for Lady Trevelyan's quarters to be arranged, she temporarily took up residency in the large, unused dining hall located below the main level of the castle. Food and drink was brought, and everyone throughout the keep, noble and soldier alike, was invited to dine. So there they sat, Warden next to Templar, Orlesian next to Ferelden, warrior and savant alike.

     It was quite comical, seeing everyone laugh and drink, and make fools of them selves, as posh Orlesians turned up their noses. By the Maker, her mother always did have a way at parties. She had yet to speak to Ophelia, which was expected. 'Twas rude to start questioning a guest before they were properly fed and attended to, as was family custom. Which Ophelia didn't argue with. The last thing she needed was to cause a scene.

     My the woman was grand. She hadn't changed a bit. Her long dark curls perfectly framed her face. Those eyes of hers. That smile. She was where Ophelia got her looks. Perhaps that was how she got away with her deceit all those years. Ophelia didn't look a thing like her father.

     Fortunately, Lord Trevelyan, her...father, was not in attendance. No doubt he was bothered by affairs back home. He didn't take it lightly, assuming his brother's title. The man was honorable, and actually took the title seriously. Unlike his brother. With that thought in mind, part of Ophelia regretted not giving the man more of a chance.

     It didn't matter now. What mattered was that her mother was at Skyhold, and Thom Rainier refused to say why. What, did he hope the two of them would make amends? Perhaps rekindle their precious relationship? Over Ophelia's dead body. She wanted to get this over with already.

     Thom sat back in his chair, eyeing the room, drinking from his cup. Ophelia looked at her own cup. Sweetened goat's milk. With elfroot mixed in. She had always hated it, but she couldn't very well drink could she? She was with child, that much was certain...

     ...What was Thom's game? For a Free Marches man, he certainly played the Game well. He always had. He played the angered, battered warrior fairly well, but he was no dull man. He was up to something, wasn't he? But what by the grace of Andraste could it possibly be?

     Part of her wanted to beat it out of him. But she knew she couldn't. Even in perfect health, without a child within her, he was the one man that could out menuver her in a skirmish. She resented that right now.

     Dorian was in perfect bliss. This was the most fun anyone had since their return from Adamant. The bards played and sang, people danced, and talked for hours.

     Cassandra sat in perfect grace and silence as the others carried on. For a moment, Ophelia caught her staring at her, then glancing back at Thom. It was obvious she wanted to know what he was up to as well.

     Cole was nowhere to be seen, but was no doubt lerking somewhere, watching, listening. And Ophelia bet he knew everything. But, damn him, he wouldn't tell her would he? She was tempted to search him out, get some answers out of him. He probably knew exactly what was going on in Thom's head.

     She shouldn't try. It wasn't right. She had to believe that she would find out soon enough what was going on, and when Thom was ready, he would tell her...

     ...The night had stretched, but eventually had to end. In the late hours folk were turning in, hobbling drunkenly to their beds, dazed by the merrymaking. Lady Trevelyan and her servants turned in as well, happy to be in beds, rather than on the road, after their travel. And so Ophelia turned in as well.

     She still hadn't spoken to her mother. No, she would wait until morning, when everyone was sober again, and seek her answers then...or would she? As she undressed and donned more comfortable attire, a thin overshirt to sleep in, she heard familiar footsteps coming up the stairs. Of course, it was Thom.

     He looked tired. So was she. She half expected him to simply fall in bed, and fall asleep, but she knew better...The look he gave her...it said otherwise.

     He walked over to her and kissed her, without saying a word. With his every step, he led her to the bed as he kissed. His tongue gently caressing hers, slipping his arms around her waist, up her spine. Even to her hair. They gently fell back to the bed. She pushed him away a little, so she could speak.

     "Tell me what all this is about." she said softly. "Why is my mother here?"

     "I'll tell you tomorrow." he said. Then he kissed her again. It was evil. It felt, tasted, so good. He untied her tunic, pulling it down a little, bearing her chest. He kissed her neck, then her chest, toying at her breast, driving her mad. But still, she persisted.

     "Why can't you tell me now?"

     He flopped down on the bed next to her on his back. Groaning, almost growling like a beast.

     "My lady, if you don't stop asking about it..." he began.

     "You'll do what?" she moved to prop herself up on his chest, taunting him. He smiled.

     "I might just have to turn into a bear and eat you." he said, pulling her close.

     "Oh no! A bear?" she played. "And you'll eat me?" he played with her hair.

     "Every last bit." he said. Then he pulled her face close to his and kissed her once more. But she couldn't fight him.

     He pulled her up ontop of him. Touching her in all the right places. She could never put her finger on how this man had this way with her, But she wasn't about to question now. But no. No, he would not have his way. If he wanted anything from her...it would be her way.

     She pushed him back onto the bed, hearing him groan as he layed back into the pillow, utterly curious of her. She ran her hands up his chest as she straddled him. Even through the clothes he wore she could feel that he ached for her. She began to unbutton his shirt, peeling it away from him so she could kiss his chest, running her lips across his skin, feeling his chest hair tickle them. He started to tremble a little at her touch.

     She had heard of women doing this. Secrets behind closed doors. The way that a woman, no matter how meager, could hold power over a man, with a single touch...She unbuttoned his trousers. Pulling them down and out of the way. Then she put her mouth on him, hearing him suck in a breath. Perhaps a woman had done this to him before, but never her. And never the way she did, she guessed.

     She moved ever so slowly, torturing him with her lips, and even her tongue. Licking him, and he grabbed her hair. It didn't hurt, no, he grabbed her gently, almost wanting to move her, but he couldn't. All he could do was tremble. So she tortured him further, slowly moving up and down on him, and it was his turn to whimper. She had control of the bear. He could do no more than beg for her to stop, or continue, faster, until he came.

     She was enjoying this. How many times had he driven her mad like this? How many times had he had her hanging by the very same thread as he, now? He pulled her face away, their eyes locking. He had never seen this version of her. He liked it. And so did she.

     But it was cut short as he got up and finished undressing, climbing ontop of her, pulling the blankets around them.

     "You...continue to surpise me, my lady." he said in her ear. He was behind her, her face buried in the pillow, and he entered her, she could feel his breath on her neck. He grabbed her hands, lacing his fingers in hers as he thrust, nipping at her shoulder with his teeth. So this bear hadn't completely surrendered...or perhaps he had. Perhaps that was their way. Quarreling a little before finally giving in. Letting their passion take them both.

     All the things they had said, all they had done, like whispers in the wind now...He gripped her tighter, pushing just a little harder. Though not much. But just enough to drive her mad. She let out a whimper of pleasure, rearing her head back into his chest, arching her back at that thrust. He groaned in her ear, barely audible, only loud enough for her to hear.

     "I told you." he said breathlessly. "I was going to eat you..." he pushed her back down to the bed...

     ...They lay tangled in one another for sometime, before Ophelia worked up the courage to speak to him. She didn't want to ruin the moment they shared, for all they knew, it could be one of the last. Maker only knew what the next day would bring them both. She hoped to always feel that way. To enjoy each moment with him, as if it were their last. But there were things left unsaid. Things she needed to know. Things he needed to hear.

     But he spoke first, drawing her from her thoughts.

     "Ever thought of a name?" he asked her.

     "A name?...For the baby?" she asked in turn. He nodded as he continued to stare at the vaulted ceiling.

     "No. I hadn't. I never expected I would have a child to think of such things."

     "Neither did I." he looked down at her, raising his brow at her puzzled expression. "What, you thought I didn't understand?...That I would ever think about bringing a child into the hell I created for myself..." he sighed. "You and I are very much alike, my lady. Too much sometimes. We both think with our hearts...way too often. And only think with our heads when it will hurt us the most."

     "True." she said. "I don't ever think I could argue with that...I firmly believe that sums up the entirety of our relationship." that made him chuckle.

     "But will that be our entire lives?" he asked her.

     "No." she said as she sat up on his chest. "No, I think we have our work cut out for us though...Like only discussing the future when we're forced to? We'll have to work on that." she smirked.

     "Then let's discuss it now." he said.

     She sat up. "Alright. Let's have it then."

     "What, no argument?" he sighed. "It's usually at this point in the conversation you start arguing about something and want to hit me." she laughed.

     "That's one of the things I'm changing...Thom, everything's changed. Everything we once wanted for ourselves...it won't happen that way." she looked into his eyes.

     "No it won't." he sat up and looked at her. "But perhaps it will be better."

     He kissed her.

     ...The next day, Ophelia stood straight, and held her head high as she met her mother in her quarters. It was only the two if them, her servants had been dismissed even, and so Lady Trevelyan poured her own cup of tea, and a cup for Ophelia as well. She smelled it, inhaling the delectable scent, and savoring it. It smelled just the same as when she was young. Unfortunately, making all the memories come flooding back.

     Her mother cleared her throat. Before either of them got a chance to speak, there was a knock on the door. Then it opened, and in stepped Thom. Intriguing.

     "Don't worry," he said. "I asked to be here." he stood at attention, arms clasped behind his back. He, honestly, looked quite fetching. His hair neatly combed, shirt neatly pressed. Ophelia was slightly amused by it. He wasn't the only one. She as well had been dressed for the occasion, though in her armor. To give her mother the impression that she was no longer the trite girl she was when she left home. She was a rogue, a warrior, and the Inquisitor now. Her mother merely sat back in her chair.

     "So...this is the infamous Thom Rainier, I presume? The one who impersonated Gordon Blackwall, the Grey Warden?" she asked. Ophelia nodded. Her mother looked at her. "You keep...interesting company, dear." she said as she cocked her head to the side in interest. "So you are the man who sent me the letter." she said to him.

     "I am." was all he said. His brow furrowed in utter seriousness.

     "You were...rather vague, in your letter." she turned to look at Ophelia. "What have you told him, Ophelia?"

     She sighed. "I told him the truth."

     "The truth?...So I assume you know...of her father then?" she asked curiously.

     "I do." he said. "I know everything. About how her father really died, about who her...real father is...and the actions that the Trevelyans have taken." her mother almost choked on her sip of tea.

     "I see." she said, staring at her cup. "And did she tell you her part in that?" she asked, still looking at her cup.

     "I did." said Ophelia. "Now, would either of you like to explain exactly what is going on?" she looked at both of them.

     "You'll have to ask him." her mother lowered her cup. "I was only told to come to Skyhold under the ruse of needing assistance from the Inquisition to settle a dispute." Ophelia turned to Thom, who's expression was solemn. She wondered what he was thinking, but only for a moment, as his words answered her thoughts.

     "I had hoped to do the honorable thing, and ask you personally, for her hand in marriage." he said, straightfaced, to Lady Trevelyan. Ophelia looked at him, the shock not well hidden from her features. As did her mother.

     "You...wait, what?" Ophelia asked him. "You're saying this had nothing to do with some attempt at 'rekindling our relationship' or some shite?" she folded her arms. Her mother set her cup down on the tray and stood up.

     "I...I am shocked, Rainier." she said. "...Such a bold request, coming from someone like you." Ophelia turned to glare at her. "Oh come now, Ophelia. What did you think I was going to say?...And in truth, Ophelia's father should be here for this. Why ask me?" she folded her arms, much in the same fashion as Ophelia.

     "Because your opinion is the one that matters." he said.

     "Hers?" Ophelia asked. "Why should anyone in my family care what I do?!" she started pacing.

     "So you're assuming I don't care?" her mother asked. "Was I not the one who paid handsomly to track you down, and ask you to go to the Conclave?"

     "Only for the family's good name!" Ophelia spat.

     "No!...No, that's not why I did it at all!" she said, surprisingly, with emotion in her voice. "I sought you out because I believed it was the right thing to do! For your sake! And for all of us!...And can you imagine how I felt when I thought my daughter was dead!" she choked. "That I had finally lost everything!...And when I heard you were alive, pulled from the ashes. Supposedly saved by the grace of Andraste herself!...Can you even begin to understand how that felt?!" she started to tear.

     "You expect me to believe you actually care?!" Ophelia asked, clenching her fists.

     "I never stopped!...But I can't convince you can I?" she sniffed. She turned to Thom, who had been silently watching, arms still crossed. "Fine. You have my blessing, Thom Rainier." she looked at Ophelia. "Perhaps _you_ can reason with your soon to be bride!" she said breathlessly, trying to fight her emotion.

     "And _there_ it is!" Ophelia said venomously. "The woman who grants her blessing just to spite her daughter!"

     Her mother huffed. "Well what else am I supposed to do?" she asked defensively.

     Ophelia sighed. Being this angry was exhausting. Taking a toll on her, and no doubt taking a toll on their child. She moved to gingerly sit on the chair in front of her mother, putting her face in her hands.

     "Why didn't you contact me sooner then?" she asked, not looking up. "If you supposedly cared so much."

     "Would it have changed anything?" her mother asked softly. "When you have so much to do now?" the woman raised a brow. "I never wanted to let you go in the first place, dear...I forgave you for what happened _years_ ago...But you didn't see. You were blinded by your pain. Perhaps I was too...And you were but a child, Ophelia. Who didn't understand how the world worked. And you ran."

     "I'm not running anymore, mother." she said as she looked up. "I'm far from that child you remember." she stared coldly. "I've put the past behind me."

     "Have you?...Truly?" Lady Trevelyan sat back down in her chair, opposite of Ophelia. "Terribly dreadful." she muttered. "You seeing this, Misseur Rainier." she said, with all the pomp and fluff as if she were Orlesian herself. "I didn't expect any of this to be our first meeting...This is all very difficult...you see." she said.

     "It's alot harder to be honest, than it is to thread a lie, isn't it?" he said with a raised brow. "Something I'm not unfamiliar with." Lady Trevelyan chuckled.

     Ophelia tried to remain calm, for Thom's sake. Didn't make much sense to claim she was no longer a child, only to turn around and act like one. And he had _proposed_...she soaked that in. And not in just some silly, half hearted bedroom talk. No, he dragged her mother halfway across Ferelden just to ask her personally.

     "I...have heard all you have to say, mother." she said calmly. "I suppose I must accept it." she looked at her. "But I cannot go home. With or without the Inquisition's task, my place...is no longer in your household." she stood up, and bowed politely to leave.

     Upon opening the door, there stood Cass and Dorian. Abashed expressions on the both of them. They had been eavesdropping. Ophelia arched her brow and smirked. And she bet her life on Cole being somewhere nearby as well.

     "Who are they?" her mother asked from her chair.

     "C-Cassandra Pentaghast, Your Grace." said Cass.

     "And Dorian Pavus, at your service." said Dorian as he bowed. "We are liaisons of the Inquisitor...albeit...not looking very _professional_ right now, are we?" he smiled nervously.

     Lady Trevelyan stood up and eyed them both carefully. "How much did you hear?"

     "Oh none of it of course!" said Dorian. "No we are far too-"

     "We heard everything." said Cass admittedly. A look of shame on the Seeker's face.

     "I see." spoke Lady Trevelyan. "...Speak of none of it...and I shant spread rumor of how... _unprofessional_ your Inquisition is, then." both nodded.

     Ophelia and Thom both stood there, in a bit of a daze. Then Ophelia turned to leave.

     "Ophelia, shall we speak more tomorrow, perhaps?" her mother asked. Reluctantly she nodded, then left the room, her followers close in tow...

     ..."That was interesting." said Dorian, as he, Ophelia, Cass, and Thom leaned against the table in the War Room. Moments before, Cole had appeared, and was quietly sitting on the floor nearby, listening.

     "Yes...it was." said Cass. "Did I hear correctly?" she turned to Thom. "That you...proposed to the Inquisitor?"

     He cocked his head to the side. "You weren't supposed to _hear_ any of it." he said. "What were you lot doing there, anyhow?" he asked.

     "Gathering information." said Dorian redundantly. "Eavesdropping." he smirked. "What else did you think we were doing?"

     Thom snorted. "I expected that from you." he said to him. "But not _her_." he gestured to Cass. She sighed.

     "Don't give me that look." she said. "I was looking out for her." she nodded toward Ophelia.

     "Guarding the door were we?" Ophelia asked rather coy. Then she chuckled. "As if my evil mother were going to send assassins to gut me?"

     Cass groaned. "Not entirely...but, yes. I suppose. I have every reason to be protective of the leader of the Inquisition." she stated plainly.

     "So...let me get this straight." said Dorian. "You dragged Ophelia's mother all the way here...just to ask her about marriage?"

     "Not entirely."

     She knew it. Her suspicions had been correct all along.

     "So you lied then?" Ophelia asked, eyeing him with her suspicion.

     "No. I didn't. I just didn't tell you everything." he said. "You had unfinished business with her, and it needed dealt with."

     "This...talk of marriage." said Cass. "I'm afraid I do not understand. You are promised to the Wardens, are you not?"

     "I was. Your Inquisitor _released_ me." he said, frustration in his voice.

     "Really?" she asked Ophelia.

     "It's true." she said. "He is free to make his own choice."

     "Oh that's positively _primeval_ , darling." Dorian smirked. "Playing a game on the man's 'honor' like that."

     "No. She is right." said Cass. "Even I'm not that heartless to send a man to the Wardens leaving a wife and child behind...In fact, I would never be that heartless." she said, shaking her head. "Provided the world doesn't end first."

     "Are you always so negative, Seeker?" Dorian pressed.

     "I am a realist, Pavus." she said. "Which is why, from here on out, we put the past behind us."

     Cole appeared beside Ophelia. "It's very dark in the future...isn't it?" he asked. "I can't see it...perhaps you can..." he looked at Ophelia.

     "None of us can, Cole." she said to him. "But that doesn't mean we can't change it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (in the second paragragh, no, I did not misspell servant. Savant is a word. It typically means a professional, or connoisseur of a specific task or subject. Vocabulary. It's a beautiful thing)


	34. To Be An Honorable Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (another chapter told from thom/blackwall's perspective)

     "No." said Thom.

     "No? What do you mean no?...You can't be serious." Lady Trevelyan shook her head.

     She had just offered to pay for a wedding. And of course Thom was going to refuse. He knew Ophelia wouldn't have agreed anyway, but it wasn't just that.

     "So I'm here at Skyhold for a daughter that will barely speak to me...and her betrothed refuses my offering of a wedding?" she smirked. Much like Ophelia always did.

     This woman was almost an exact copy of Ophelia, give or take twenty some years difference in age. Thom found it comical. The only significant difference between this woman and her daughter, in looks and demeanor, was how finely dressed she was. Whereas she wore an elegantly tailored Ferelden gown, her daughter preferred trousers, boots, and an Inquistion officer's coat.

     They were alike regardless, both stubborn and persistant. But Ophelia had softened as the months had went by, slowly opening her heart to him. Her mother on the other hand...not so much.

     "Regardless of what my daughter may feel, Thom Rainier, she is still Trevelyan, and deserves a fine affair, does she not?"

     Oh that was low. Thom crossed his arms. "Are you riding my integrity?" he asked blunty. "Saying I couldn't provide that?"...not that it wasn't true. He wasn't exactly in a position to throw silver down on a wedding, he had been preoccupied as of late with more important things. Like ending wars and slaying demons, perhaps.

     "No. I'm not saying that." she said, as if reading his mind. "You and the Inquisitor both have had more important duties, you see...and perhaps it's an offering, of sorts. One of peace. A sign of my blessing...and after everything Ophelia has been through...perhaps I feel she deserves that from me." she turned away from the window, and walked over to pour a cup of tea.

     "Perhaps. But my opinion isn't the only one that matters in this, Lady Trevelyan." he said. She raised a brow.

     "Lady Trevelyan?...We'll have to do something about that." she said as she sat down. "You are to be my son-in-law, afterall."

     "Why is that?" he asked suddenly, walking over to sit across her. "You told Ophelia otherwise...but you knew why you were here. Why say yes?"

     She sighed. Then she brushed a lock of hair from her face.

     "Any man that would send me such a letter...practically begging me to come, for _her_ sake, you said...a man like that has a heart. Too big of a heart, perhaps." she stirred her tea.

     "Even the likes of me? A man who betrayed the Orlesian crown?" he asked candidly.

     "Especially the likes of you." she leaned forward. "Between you and me, I can't stand the Empire. I'd assume let the Dalish burn it to the ground...but I play my own game, Thom." she gingerly took a sip of tea. "For my family's sake."

     He shook his head as he chuckled. "You and your daughter are more alike than you may realize." he leaned farther back in the chair as he sighed. "I'm trying to understand how you came to be so far apart."

     "Pain will do that to a person." she said. All humor leaving her face. "I never loved my husband...I married him because it was best for my interests. It was expected of me. And the man didn't love me either..." she cleared her throat. "But his brother did...and I him. Always had...Ophelia was a product of that love. And it has shaped who she is. And when...my husband died, and I married his brother, I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I would make her happy. That she would never be connected to that man a minute longer...But she wasn't. She didn't want to hide from what she had done. So instead she left." Lady Trevelyan nursed her tea once more. "When I received word of the Conclave, I had her tracked down. She had been living in the woods outside Ostwick, as a bounty hunter. She didn't go by her real name. An interesting pseudonym of her own name. Ophine Terravell. Wasn't hard to spot."

     "She never told me that." Thom cocked his head to the side.

     "I imagine she wouldn't." it was her turn to lean her head. "There is no doubt in my mind that the woman you met was a woman who learned her purpose. A woman who accepted who she was. And I highly doubt she wanted to hide from the likes of you."

    "And you sent her to the Temple of Sacred Ashes so she'd learn her purpose?" he tried to hide the sarcasm in his question but it was difficult.

     "Perhaps...Though all I knew at the time was that it was right...less of a thought, more of a feeling...as if a voice in the wind had whispered it in my ear...I don't know how to explain it, but all I knew was how much it hurt to think I might've lost her."

     "I know that feeling all too well." Thom rubbed his temple, thinking about it.

     "How so?" she perked up in curiosity.

     "...More times than I would like to admit, I've seen her put herself in the fray. Watched her put herself in harm's way, doing what she does...Funny thing about that..."

     "Do tell." Lady Trevelyan leaned forward again in interest.

     He sighed. "I uh...might've had to save her ass a few times." he admitted. Lady Trevelyan squinted.

     "I think I'll overlook the vulgarity for that." she said. "You...Saving the Herald of Andraste?" she chuckled. "A brave one, you are, then."

     "I don't think bravery had anything to do with it. You'll do anything for someone you love." he folded his arms. "If I had my way, she wouldn't be here in the first place. But it's not up to me, is it?"

     Lady Trevelyan eyed him carefully. Soaking in his words. Then she took another sip of her tea. As she set down her cup, she carefully wiped her lip with a napkin, ever so elegantly.

     "It seems, Thom, that you have answered your own question with that statement." she got up and walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "The answer as to why I gave my blessing." she walked back over to the window, to look out of it for a moment. Thom leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, considering her words.

     "Just promise me you will protect her." she said softly. "Promise me you won't let her out of your sight, when she's out there...in the world. Being a hero." he heard her choke, heavy with emotion.

     He stood up then. Choosing his words carefully.

     "I promise, that as long as I'm alive, I will do my best to keep her safe." he said. Lady Trevelyan nodded in acceptance. He bowed to take his leave...

     ...He found Ophelia in her quarters. She had met with her advisors, to discuss new information on the Venatori, and no doubt to plan for Lady Morrigan's arrival. The woman was a blasted mystery to him, but she provided an alliance, and connection to Empress Celine, and assistance to their cause. Support that they needed at the moment.

     Ophelia looked tired, but instead of resting, she had been pacing. That always drove Thom mad. She always did it when she was disturbed, or angry, and by the Maker she was beautiful when she was angry. Though it wasn't anger that distracted her today. She hadn't noticed him entering, so he watched her, leaned against the frame of the door leading to the balcony.

     She swayed when she paced, her thin, delicate frame moving in perfect rhythm. Cheeks flushed, strands of hair coming loose from the pile of it on her head. She wore it up just as she had in Hilamshiral...one of the last moments they shared before all their past came flooding back...She turned then, and saw him. Her eyes sparkled. He was half tempted to strip her down right then, but no. No she had something on her mind. And he wondered what it was.

     "Thom...what are we doing?" she asked, nervously. She wrung her hands.

     "I believe it's called talking." he smiled. "You know, that thing people do when they move their lips." that made her let out an exasperated sigh.

     "You know what I mean." she hung her head. He chuckled.

     "Yes, but it's too much fun pissing you off sometimes." he said. "I'm surprised I'm still alive, come to think of it. That you haven't tried to use your mark to send me through the Fade or some shit."

     "Why?" she raised a brow. "Because you brought my mother here?...Or used blood magic to bring me back to life?...Or almost lost your own on my account, saving mine?...I have a few reasons to...If you'd like me to..."

     He laughed. "I wouldn't blame you. Not one bit." he went out on the balcony and motioned for her to join him. Then he flopped to the ground, leaning back against the bannister. She did the same, though more gently, and leaned back beside him.

     "I don't hold grudges." she said out of nowhere. "Call it a gift, if you will. But I tend not to dwell on things as much as I should." she sighed. "You had the best intent. I know that."

     "Aye. I did. Now...tell me what is really on your mind." he said to her. She leaned against him.

     "I can't help but think you're making a mistake...is this really what you want?" she asked him. "To be...married to me?"

     "And you don't?" he asked her back, completely surprised by her questions.

     "No, I do. But..." she looked up at him. Her eyes met his and he could see the worry in them. "Oh Thom..." she sighed. "I don't think we planned for any of this...and to think I wanted the magic reversed, but you talked me out of it, you knew we couldn't be together forever...silly hopes, imaginings of a better life, on my part...And then you brought me back. And, provided we prevail...and don't stupidly get ourselves killed...we'll have a child." she looked at her feet. "And you're giving up the Wardens for me, aren't you?"

     "And to think...it was all possible because your mother sent a letter to Ophine Terravell..." he winked.

     "You've been talking to my mother." she wrinkled her brow. Her nose wrinkled too and it was absolutely adorable.

     "I have." he said. "She had some interesting things to say."

     "Well...what is it then?" she asked.

     "You're not going to like it." he said.

     "Well you're going to tell me anyway." she asserted. He sighed.

     "She offered to pay for a wedding."

     "You jest." she chuckled. "...You're being serious?" her eyes widened. He nodded.

     "I...respectfully declined."

     "Which means you flat out told her no."

     "Pretty much." he shrugged. He heard Ophelia snicker.

     "I bet that bothered her didn't it?"

     "Not as much as my 'vulgarity'." she smiled.

     His thoughts broke his own heart though. Everything she had just said...She was right. He was giving up the Wardens, wasn't he? Giving up what Blackwall started. He had never forgotten the day he met him, how that man changed his life. Made him see life in a different way...If only he hadn't been such a stupid lad and ran from his problems in the first place...of course, would he have met Ophelia then? Or be sitting in a jail cell somewhere, or hang from a noose?

     Why had he ever done it? Had the money really been worth it? When he squandered it all anyway?...And when he learned that Callier's children were caught in the skirmish. All four of them. Dead. By his own men. Probably killed to leave no witnesses as to what they had done. They weren't bad men though. Only following orders. HIS orders. It had sickened him.

     He never slept right since then. Plagued with nightmares. Images of innocent children. Perhaps the spirits of those young ones, haunting him as he slept...His men had seen so much battle. So much death. War did that to a man. Did they even know what they were doing? Or did they simply kill everything, in a rage...in the heat of the moment.

     It didn't matter. It had been done. And those nightmares persisted...Many times he watched as Ophelia slept, plagued with her own demons. She wept in her sleep, for things she probably didn't even understand...She had been but a child herself when she killed her so called father, hadn't she? Perhaps tired of years of abuse. Of neglect, her heart breaking. And seeing what she saw was the last, disgusting straw that drove her over the edge...She acted like it didn't bother her, didn't matter. But she couldn't lie in her dreams. And she would mutter in her sleep.

     Dreams of death. Dreams of losing him, losing everything. Crying out in the dark...Alot if men had sorrow in their dreams, war also did that. And though she was but a talented fighter, the knack she had with her daggers, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, she was a soldier now. Plagued with all the fatigue of battle.

     And they would have a child of their own, if fate would allow...No. He could not let the past be repeated. He couldn't run this time. It wasn't right...But was it trully right for him to still ignore his betrayal? To forsake the Wardens? Because of Ophelia they had a chance to rebuild. Wasn't his place also among their ranks?

     Ophelia brought him out of his thoughts.

     "What's on your mind?" she asked him softly. Her voice was like the softest, richest silk. He stood up then, and leaned on the bannister, looking at the mountains. The breathtaking Skyhold view. How could he say it?...How could he say anything? Either way, his heart was torn still.

     "My lady..." he sighed. "I can't turn my back on the Grey Wardens, can I?" he asked, still looking out at the snowy mountains. He couldn't look her in the eye. He already guessed what her expression was...And he guessed right.

     She stood up. "But...but you-"

     "I made a promise." he said as he turned to face her. He could see the anger and confusion in her features.

     "But I freed you!" she said angrily. "To make your own choice! So you wouldn't have to be bound by your honor!"

     "I've never been bound by honor!" he spat, with equal fury. "Don't you see that?!...Every action I've taken...every step I've made...It had nothing to do with honor!" he had been slowly drawing near, to get in her face as he spoke. "I'm only here because of a stupid decision I made, and because I was a coward!...Who fell in love with the wrong woman!"

     Maker's balls. He shouldn't have said that...For fuck's sake. Why did he have to let his anger get the better of him?...She turned away from him, clenching her fists. He stepped toward her.

     "Ophelia...I-"

     "Get out." she said quietly.

     "No." he said. He reached for her.

     "Get...OUT!" she raged. The mark on her hand sparked. Fuck it. He didn't care. He grabbed her, then. He had to calm her down. What if she hurt their child?

     "Ophelia, calm down-"

     "Don't!" she snapped. "Don't tell me to calm down!" she struggled. But he wouldn't let go.

     "Dammit woman! For fuck's sake I'm sorry! Now calm down before you hurt our child!"...she stopped struggling then. She stared up at him. Tears began to form in her eyes. Maker, he wished he could stop them.

     "So what then? Were you just going to marry me because it was the _honorable_ thing to do?...So that you wouldn't have to live with bringing a bastard into the world?" she couldn't stop her tears, but she couldn't stop her rage either. She was a mess.

     "No. That's not why. I'm _going_ to marry you, because I love you." he said. He heard her whimper. "But I owe them. I owe the Callier children. I can't rest until I pay for what my men did...That little one," he looked down, "in there. I owe him too."

     She looked up at him. No longer angry. "How do you know it's a 'he'?" she asked quietly.

     "I have a feeling."

     For a moment, they were both calm. Standing there, she in his arms. He wrapped them around her. She sighed. Then pulled away a little.

     "I'm still angry with you." she stated. "...But you are right...It seems funny now. I had ordered you to the Wardens because I thought you no longer loved me. I thought that was the only thing that mattered. Living up to Gordon Blackwall's expectation. The only thing that mattered to you...But I was wrong. You never stopped loving me and...I just always thought that all you wanted...was to be with me."

     She sounded humbled. Abashed. And probably a bit embarrassed by admitting to being so selfish. Wanting him all to herself. But she wasn't wrong. Deep down...in the darkest part of his heart, Thom Rainier wanted her, and only her, and the future they could possibly have...But Warden Blackwall on the other hand...wanted justice. Freedom. To no longer live a lie, or perhaps make that lie truth...So who was he then?

     Thom Rainier?...Or Blackwall?


	35. A Letter...And A Father

     Was the summer to be over so soon?...It was still warm, in fact it was hot, but Ophelia could tell by the changes in the sky, and in the wind, that it would be over all too soon...and all too soon the leaves would fall again. Had it really been almost a year since the Conclave?

     Everything around the keep seemed so quiet lately. Too quiet sometimes. Morrigan's arrival had been delayed, for whatever reason Ophelia hadn't a clue, but she assumed it was important. And instead of receiving the illusive Arcane Adviser, she received a letter, written and signed and sealed personally by Celine.

     Word had spread all over of her heroic deeds, and even her small acts of kindess. Though they were at war with rebellious mages still, there was peace for the moment, as Celine and Briala had seen to that, and the Inquisition's part in that peace was proclaimed, as they had favored the treaties signed between the Empress and the Dalish Ambassador. And had employed mages, namingly a Circle mage from Orlais, an Apostate, and a Tevinter Magister's son, to be exact. And this was favorable, a sign that peace between conflicting factions was possible.

     Mercy given to the Wardens was taking root as well, as there were some among them who chose to take up the faith of the Chantry, and serve the people in the Herald of Andraste's honor. Traveling, doing acts of kindness of their own, the best way they knew how, in protecting refugees from the blight. Some were perhaps a little misguided, but the Inquisition intervened when necessary, at Commander Rutherford's order.

     And though there were still some who followed the Venatori, against the Inquisition, their numbers were slowly decreasing with every encampment discovered and wiped clean. Ophelia had no doubt that by the end of the year they would catch up to the Elder One's mistress, Calpernia, and deal with her too. And Ophelia had hope that perhaps she was another misled by his influence, and could be reasoned with. Perhaps turned to better purpose, just as the Wardens.

     And discovery of the Seekers' treachery? Ophelia had pressed that Cassandra herself rebuild the Seekers, under new and improved charge. She believed wholeheartedly that the Seeker could do it, for her faith in her friend never had cause to waver. And though there were those, among both the faithful and unfaithful that doubted, for everyone, there were just as many inspired by her actions. And Celine had stressed this in her letter.

     She also stressed how mortified she had been when she heard rumors that the Herald had been mortally wounded by a dragon, defending the people of Redcliffe. She probably heard an exaggerated version of course, but how she had been overjoyed to hear she yet live.

     And the last part of the letter. This part tugged at the Inquisitor's heartstrings. Playing them beautifully, like a gifted bard on a rosewood lyre.

     She had heard of what happened to Warden Blackwall. That was why Josephine had so easily pulled strings to release Thom from Orlais. Funny, that the trite little Diplomat had never mentioned that...But nevertheless, Celine sympathized. Though only the two knew why. In true Orlesian form, she was rather cryptic in her message, so that noone the wiser would learn of her and Briala, should the letter have reached the wrong hands, or be seen by the wrong eyes. But Ophelia understood what she meant.

     She recognized the love in Ophelia's eyes that night in Hilamsharal. The same look in her eyes that the Empress held for someone dear to her. And how she had appeciated Ophelia keeping her secret, so that no one would harm Briala, or sour Celine's name, or negate their treaties of peace. She felt for Ophelia's heartbreak at learning of her love's betrayal, and believed someone like Thom would never have willingly slain Callier's children.

     And rumor of how diligently he served the Inquisition in recompense for his crime worked in his favor. There were those in Orlais as well as Ferelden that believed that the Herald's mercy on Monseur Rainier was ordained. That it was the blessing of Andraste that called her to spare his life.

     Then Celine said how proud the Trevelyans should be that their heir was such the hero of Thedas.

     Tears streamed down her cheeks as she read that last line, over and over again. The letter had been signed:

     "Affectionately yours, Celine. Impératrice et Prevailer de Orlais."

     ...All was quiet in the garden. Surprisingly no one was there, save for her mother sitting on a bench in the gazebo that had been built. The garden was no longer quite so wild. Pottery was in place to house such usefull things as elfroot or embrium, and no longer were there quite so many wild vines growing up the walls. They had been cleared away, and lattice placed instead. It was still beautiful, but no longer was it the place Ophelia remembered meeting her Warden Blackwall, caressing his cheek as he kissed her, filling her heart with love.

     She sat down next to her mother on the bench, startling her a little when she approached. Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then her mother sighed.

     "I had hoped...that you would feel this a suitable place to have the ceremony...if you wanted." she said softly, as she eyed an elfroot plant growing in it's pot.

     "It is beautiful here, isn't it?" Ophelia asked. "Of course, it's nothing like home, but it has it's charm." her mother smirked.

     "There is nothing like home, darling." she fixed her skirt, draping the hem properly. "And...speaking of which, I sent word there. Your...father will be arriving soon." she said tentatively. Cautious, not wanting to anger her, obviously.

     Ophelia sighed. She was past the point of anger. She had none left to feel. And she knew that getting angry would only put stress on her, and stress on her child. So instead she simply nodded.

     Why should she really care? This man, the brother of Lord Trevelyan, her real father, was more of a mystery to her. She barely knew him. She had been sent away, to a school of sorts, when she was fifteen, while her family dealt with the mess she had been given. Years had passed, years she went without speaking to anyone who related to her, until finally she returned, only to find her mother practically married to a stranger, and everything that happened, swept under a rug. For _her_ protection, her mother had said to her.

     And as far as she knew, she had never even met him.

    "Would not his Lordship prevent him from coming?" she asked her mother. "Surely he would need to remain at home...for the family's sake." she eyed her mother with curiosity.

     "Given this moment of peace, for the time, he offered to steal away to Skyhold for a while...and given the circumstances..." she looked up. "He should-"

     "Inquisitor." said a scout as he approached. He bowed. "Another envoy has approached. Trevelyan banner."

     ...It was him. He was here. At that moment...Ophelia tried to still her racing heart. She and Lady Trevelyan arose and walked through the courtyard toward the main gate...She looked horrible, didn't she? Sweat a little from the summer sun, hair was a little messy. Her underarmor probably looked worn, and a bit drab...Wait, why was she suddenly obsessing over how she looked? It never mattered to her before. It never mattered to Thom, he accepted and loved that she never tried to be a lady, though he called her his lady nonetheless. Because it was his way of saying how much she mattered to him. But he loved her spirit though.

     Lord Trevelyan, however, was different. A stranger, the head of a noble family in the Free Marches. A man so different from his brother, the man she called father for the first fifteen years of her life. So different from the man she resented. What did he look like? Did he look like her? Did he resemble his brother? Would he be familiar?...Would he even care what she thought, or how she felt? Or was he simply there to play the part of ally to the Inquisition?

     The guards pulled the chains, and lowered the large front gate. A few soldiers marched through, the entourage to Lord Trevelyan. Carrying their banners, their armor and shields gleaming in the sunlight...and then she saw him.

     He had dark hair too. Though slightly lighter than hers...His face chiseled, and fairly handsome for a man of his age. Slight wisps of grey in his hair and on his face. And eyes that sparkled in the sun. And he...well he looked more like her than his brother ever had. Maybe she didn't look completely like her mother after all.

     He smiled a little at the corner of his lips as he bowed. Why, they even sort of smiled the same.

     "Inquisitor." he said as he bowed, his voice warm, bellowing with pride.

      Everyone in the courtyard gawked as his held out his arm to his wife, and allowed her to escort him inside the keep, and Ophelia followed, curious of him. Some of the Inner Circle were present, and bowed respectfully to the father of the Inquisitor as he passed, and he nodded in turn.

     Once inside, the Trevelyans were given privacy for the moment, as to speak candidly, and welcome Lord Trevelyan in peace.

     Neither one of them could speak. He just...stared at her. Perhaps trying to find words. Just as she was. Then he sighed, raising a brow, a little smirk appearing.

     "You've grown." he said. "You don't remember me, do you?...You probably wouldn't. You were only five, last I saw you...covered in mud, no less." he chuckled. "Terrorising one of your little cousins I think...And how you look like your mother now."

     He nervously held out a hand to brush a hair from her face. She had his nose, she realized.

     He loved her, didn't he?...Had he always? And always wanted to know her, but never got the chance? She started to tear...He tried to brush it away with his thumb.

     She flew into his arms, and let him hug away the pain as she sobbed. She let go, of everything. In that moment, those few precious minutes, she cried away the last of her pain. The last of her guilt, of her grief, of her sorrow. Of the life she had lived for that moment. For the future, she hoped, could be one with sunshine in her face afterall.

     Maker only knew what tomorrow would bring, wasn't that right?...And surely it were possible...if there was the smallest chance...she could make it through. No matter what would come her way...

     With the family who loved her. Always had. Despite herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (obviously head-canon plays out differently, as in the game Morrigan arrives at Skyhold not long after Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts. And obviously it is not so in this story. As I will be capping the story after that. So much like the totally unrelated citadel dlc to the totally unrelated mass effect series, the last few chapters of Cloak will be like a last hoorah before closing the story...which I don't want to think about yet. It's sad.)
> 
> (I chose for Empress Celine to sign her letter "empress and prevailer of orlais" in french because it is so heavily used in Orlesian dialogue and names and placenames in the game, even though they're not in France, are they? Cest la Vie!)
> 
> (the "rosewood lyre" is an ode to the fact that I play a guitar made with rosewood)


	36. Bittersweet Vow

     Word spread like wildfire through the keep, that Ophelia and Thom had finally agreed to let her parents arrange a ceremony. As much food and drink as her mother had brought to Skyhold, her father brought twice as much. The rations were in full supply, as well as medicinal ingredients, surgeon's supplies, and a fully stocked wine cabinet. So the extra expense could most certainly be spared.

     On one condition. It was her father's condition. That the Trevelyans get permission from the Chantry for the two of them to be married. As was Andrastian tradition. All marriages in Andrastian society were sanctioned by the Chantry. So it would be expected for theirs to be the same.

     Thom agreed. He certainly wasn't going to disrespect her father's wishes. He rather liked her father. The two had sat some time together when he arrived, and shared a drink. Her father was fascinated by Thom Rainier, the man who so devoted himself to the Herald of Andraste. Who, as rumor had it, was so devoted to her, in fact, that it caused him to have a change of heart, reveal who he truly was, and sacrifice himself in Val Royeux.

     There was also the rumor that Andraste intervened somehow, just as she had at the Conclave. But her father wagered it was all hogwash, Free Marches gossip, and didn't believe any of it. But did believe that Thom was a man who regretted his mistakes, and loved Ophelia. He could understand.

     He was a very intelligent man. He could almost see right through anyone. And he regretted staying away. He had no other children. Had been unmarried before finally marrying her mother, and never loved another woman but her. So Ophelia was all he had. Though he inherited his brother's estates, and finances, and bride, it seemed...he felt he had nothing but them, his wife and daughter.

     And he threw down alot of coin to the Inquisition's cause. Of which Ophelia's advisors were happy to recieve, to put it where it was most needed...It seemed he had appeared at an opportune moment. But not all he had to say was in good tide. Most of which she already knew, but still, it hurt Ophelia to hear. She had already told herself a thousand times.

     Her father possessed some knowledge of the Wardens, knowledge he wasn't meant to, but he had known a Warden, and stressed that she consider what she was doing, marrying Thom. Of course she had considered it. Should he still choose to pledge himself, partake in the Joining, and get the chance to speak their oath...

     ...It was a very dismal affair. There was really nothing heroic about it. Honorable, perhaps, but not joyous and celebrated. If the individual survived, which was rare, they were perminantly tainted by the blight, though granted the ability to sense darkspawn, and possibly numerous other abilities. But if Thom survived, he would forever be marked, forever be called to that greater purpose, should the blight ever arise again. And one day, the blight would consume him, and he would experience the Calling, though not like the misled calling that the Wardens heard at once, that was enacted by Corypheus. No, the Calling that would take him to the Deep Roads, where he would find his death.

     Her father had also mentioned the rarity of a Warden being able to have a child, and the odds of that child in turn being tainted by the blight...but what did that matter. When they already shared one, at least. Though she half expected that mark of hers to effect her child...in some way perhaps. It was possible. If it were possible for her to return from the Fade as often as she had, surely it could be possible that provided her child live...he or she would be different.

     He told her a plethra of other worries of his, but then he chided himself. He knew that Ophelia was well aware of the consequences of her actions. She was a smart woman, he said. And he was right. She was aware...But it was worth it, wasn't it?

     Love was worth it. Those small rays of sunshine before she would surely lose it all anyway. She prayed that it wouldn't be so, but in the end...it would be, wouldn't it? She wasn't sure, but she had to pretend that she would never see any of them again, and enjoy the time she had.

     Mother Giselle had quite a bit to say about it. How she understood how much it meant to Ophelia to make her peace while she could, in the event that the Inquisition did not succeed, or that she must give her life to make it so, or that Thom would lose his life for the Grey Wardens. She hoped not. For her sake, for Thom's sake, and her unborn child.

     But in death, sacrifice.

     So Mother Giselle agreed to marry them, and follow the Andrastian tradition as was hoped. She doubted that the Chantry would approve, as there were still those who believed her claim as Herald was blasphemy. But the Herald to be seen practicing tradition? It was amenable. It would likely put some hearts at ease to see the Herald did have faith. But she also agreed to let Ophelia and Thom have their say. However they would, should they choose to say their own vows.

     What was left to say?

     ...The garden was decorated. Flowers and streams. Nothing quite so elegant as an Orlesian affair of course, but beautiful to Ophelia. The Inner Circle present, some of them, a little shocked, some of them, smiling ear to ear. Representatives of the Templar order, including Sir Barris, some Wardens, including Stroud, who was understanding of the act for he knew the sacrifice Thom would be making, and the happiness that Ophelia deserved...nobleman and commoner alike, and of course Bull's Chargers. Who promised to buy a tab at the tavern for all of them.

     And Ophelia wore...a dress. It was...strange. She hadn't worn one since she was but a girl. She had absolutely refused. But her mother, Viv and Josephine absolutely insisted...so she agreed. No veil, but a simple wreath, dotted with small white blossoms encircled her head. That matched her simple gown of a familiar Ferelden design. The fabric was soft though, and somewhat comfortable. But she half expected Thom to see it and laugh at her.

     He didn't. No laughter at all touched his eyes. When they met out in the garden and joined everyone to begin the ceremony, there was another look clouding his features. Ophelia had no idea what it was.

     And Maker's breath he looked handsome. He wore Inquisition armor. For it was the Inquisition he had pledged to, and the Inquisitor he belonged to. Hair slicked back away from his face, though he still had that scruffy beard if his. But she had grown to love it. And he looked...nervous?

     So was she. Fighting demons, and dragons, and darkspawn and blight...Signing treaties and orders and building walls and breaking ground...making friends and enemies, and an Elder One that she would meet and challenge...and an army that stood at her feet. At her order. Awaiting her very command...No. None of it was nearly as frightening as this moment. How odd that was, indeed.

     Mother Giselle broke the silence, with her direct words.

     "It is by the Grace of Andraste, and the will of the Maker, that we have gathered today. That these two should wed." she said. Her beautiful Orlesian accent sounded like a songbird. "She, our Herald of Andraste, your commander, your Inquisitor...he, a man who, like the rest of you, has pledged himself to her cause...I ask you both, to make this vow, to one another...as husband and wife."

     Ophelia and Thom both took a breath. Everyone was waiting for them to speak. But it almost seemed as if neither wanted to. All Ophelia wanted to do was stare at his eyes, remember this moment, sear it into her brain, as perminantly as Dalish vallaslin was before Solas removed it from his lover's face.

     Ophelia's eyes flitted to hers. Then to everyone elses. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the Seeker. No doubt thinking the same thoughts as she. That waking up in chains almost a year ago was a long time ago indeed. They had come far. The Seeker smiled a little, encouragingly.

     Thom spoke.

     "What is there to say?" he asked in honesty. But then he chuckled a little. "...There's so much to say...and here we are." that made her smile. "Months ago I made a vow. To a woman who bears a mark that could change the world. I vowed to serve her cause. Do whatever I could to help put things right." he held her hands in his, and in that moment, he pretended it was only the two of them, and spoke from the heart. Never taking his eyes off her.

     "But I lied to her. And everyone I was surrounded by. I thought it didn't matter...that none of it mattered...But then this woman in front of me taught me a thing or two about honesty...and a thing or two about mercy... and because of you my lady, I yet live to make amends for what I've done." he sighed. "But today, I do not pledge myself to your army. Today I don't take a vow as a Warden. Today I'm not a soldier. I'm not anything...Today I take a vow that I, Thom Rainier, should like to be your husband."

     "And I, Ophelia Trevelyan," she began, for the first time in her life, a little sad to lose her name, "accept that vow." she moved closer, and put her hand up to his cheek, trying not to tear up as she spoke. "It doesn't matter what you've done." she said quietly. "I believe everyone here knows that...and I...am very glad I found you in Hinter, Thom. And I should very much like to be your wife." she found it very hard to keep from crying now. "I would never want to be the wife of Blackwall, anyway. Not when I have a chance to marry the man I love...this man, who stands in front of me, who has saved my life...several times in fact. Including the day we met? Who has never abandoned me, who's offered me his heart..."

     "Oh now we're all going to cry!" wailed Sera, between tears. Ophelia sniffed. And she couldn't help but laugh a little. None of them could. Now one wanted to cry that day save for tears of joy perhaps. The world could end tomorrow, but today it would have to wait.

     "Today I want to be your wife." she said to him. "Today I want to be Ophelia Rainier." Thom looked as if he wanted to cry. But he wouldn't. Instead he kissed her.

     And Mother Giselle declared them lawfully wed.

     ...Both of them stole away from their own party that night, happy to be alone, with only each other. Maker help them both.

     "Do you know how beautiful you look?" he asked quietly, as they stood out on the balcony.

     "Beautiful?" she smirked. "I thought I looked silly in this thing." she reached for the hem of her dress, fiddling with it.

     "Silly? Maker's breath." he chuckled. "No, silly is not the word I'd use." he put his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

     She looked up at him. By the sweet grace of Andraste she hoped to never forget those eyes of his. And how they looked at her with such love.

     She would miss those eyes when they were gone.

    

    


	37. Notes From The Author

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Dedicated to Miss Wolfy and Mrs. Commander. My fellow members of club Nerdtopia because they love me and I love them)
> 
> (and because Reasons)

     The following chapter of course simply consists of notes from yours truly, Sonya.

     I had been debating for a while on whether or not to include the actual ending to the Inquisition main questline. And I have decided yes, Cloak & Dagger will spoil the ending...sort of. As is my right, and perhaps my civic duty to the Fanfic genre, it will be rewritten, and to forwarn, it will NOT include Trespasser. I have no intention actually to include any content from the DLCs, so before you ask "Well, how will that effect Trespasser?" It won't, because in this version it doesn't happen, and doesn't exist as far as I'm concerned.

     I also wanted to give you some back ground on your Author, and tell you some if the reasons why I made the decisions I made in the game and in the fiction.

     Firstly, I'm 24, and I've already been divorced and have a 7 year old. Who loves gaming as much as I do. And probably acts way too much like his mother. I've been through some hellacious relationships and suffered my own versions of heartbreak on several levels. Which is the reason why I appreciate in game romances such as Blackwall's. I am a forgiving person, and being a person who has made some mistakes myself along the way (no, my son is not one of them.) I personally and strongly believe in forgiveness and second chances. Albeit not to abusive relationships. But people make mistakes. Shit happens.

     Alot of Ophelia's feelings and beliefs match my own...but not all of them. Namingly I personally have no issue with mages ;)...But I developed her feelings and beliefs around key factors. One, choosing Templars instead of mages, because of the reasons why she doesn't trust magic. Instead of, "oh well I'll just play rock paper scissors to pick!" Two, sparing the Wardens because they were misled because she believes that eveyone should be given a chance to make amends, rather than "oh well Blackwall's a Warden right?" *googly eyes*...And various other decisions throughout the story.

     A lot of it hinges on metaphors. "Becoming invisible in the shadows" replacing the rogue stealth abilities, because she is a nonmagical Inquisitor. "Being one with the dark" or "liking the dark" in the same fashion. The ideals that "Maker only knows what tomorrow will bring" and "I fight in the shadows, but I don't want to live that way." those were obvious metaphors for how, eventually, Ophelia wanted to reveal her secrets, and no longer be stuck in the shadows of her past and play the Grand Game her family played. She didn't want to live with secrets or play games, and wanted to be an honest person, but for a plethra of reasons she couldn't. Much the same as Blackwall. And of course, never knowing what tomorrow would bring meant she didn't want to spoil what she had with Blackwall, because it would surely make him see her differently, as a villain instead of a hero. And those two conflicting ideals caused the conflict in her at certain parts.

     Why, you ask, wasn't she honest from the start? Well, ask Blackwall that. You'll get your answer. And because...suspense really. There would be no hook, line and sinker to the story. And I love telling stories like that. That twist and turn and leave you hanging and wanting more...at least I hope they do.

     As I developed Ophelia's character and backstory it kind of helped me to better understand Blackwall's stance in the game, and better put things into play from his perspective. I hope Alastair Parker is happy, and I hope I did Thom justice.

     And the biggest thing...I have romanced Blackwall a few times, and this isn't my first rodeo, and so no, I did not choose to spare Blackwall and all that because of my character. No I MADE Ophelia because I kept screaming at my screen how much I understood how he felt, and it wasn't working. He didn't hear me. And when I was given the idea to write a Blackwall fic, and pointed to Archive, I made an Inquistor, and a backstory, just for the occasion. And thus, you have Ophelia Trevelyan. Does she have a middle name, you ask? Why, yes she does. I was thorough. It is Bellavine. I just never had a good enough reason to include it in the fic...but it sounds kinda cool right?

     I just really wanted a character who didn't bumble around in the world she lived in, that she knew nothing about. Weird, right? To spend your life in Thedas, this beautiful and detailed game universe, and then wake up and know aboslutely nothing about it? Yes, she is still a bit naive, but not so much as the Inquisitor sometimes sounds in the game. And she says all the things I would say, or perhaps anyone might say, given that situation. She questions things, she argues, gets angry, hurts and feels sorry, and tries again. Instead of just accepting how it is and moving on. And actually develops connections and relationships with these characters on a personal level. Gets attached. Gets offended and insulted. And insults back too.

     And her struggle to accept that the world calls her a hero...when she's "just some rogue trying to pay a debt". Because in the real world, no ones just going to accept that. Maybe play along, but they would always question...why? Why am I a hero? And mull over every detail if their lives trying to figure out how it came to be. Isn't that what we do? Constantly play in our heads every detail of every second of the day, leading up to that moment, combing through it, sifting it all like sand...

     I digress.

     I'm a writer. I'm sort of good at other things, and definitely use my twisted sense of humor to good and hilarious purpose...but one thing I know, is that I was meant to write stories. And people are meant to read them...so perhaps this isn't just some smutty fanfiction to me. But a story, of love and passion, honor and bravery, heart ache and heart break, and forgiveness and...redemption. Perhaps that's why I started playing Inquisition in the first place. Because it seems to me that Bioware's writers are good at spinning stories of just those things. And I had one of my own to tell.

     To quote Lagertha Lothbrok, our whole lives are just stories.

     Some of us write them, and some of us live them...And this one must soon end. Don't fret too much my dears. It isn't the end of the world...just close to the end of a book. And books have a back cover, you know.

     ~Sonya, the Author


	38. If I Should Die Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the following chapters may contain spoilers from main quests "What Pride Had Wrought", "The Final Piece", and "Doom Upon All the World" though heavily rewritten for head-canon, much like "Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts" and Blackwall's "Revelations" quest. I would advise not reading past this point unless you absolutely don't care about Inquisition being spoiled.)
> 
> (and to reiterate, Trespasser is not included. And neither are batteries.)

 

     The Inquisition was stronger than ever. With their allies and forces united, and Corypheus' mages and Venatori forces weakened. Now was the time to strike.

     For Morrigan had arrived. And she brought something with her. It was the cause of her delay...and it was no ordinary luggage. It seemed she had possibly discovered the reason Corypheus sent his forces, and the illusive Calpernia, to search ancient Elven ruins in his stead. What she brought...was a device called an Elluvian.

     A mysterious thing in of itself. What first looked like a simple mirror, stretched from Ophelia's feet clear up above her head, was no mirror at all. In fact, it was more like a door. One activated by magic. Morrigan demonstrated and entered the portal, and albeit a little nervously, Ophelia followed.

     It was a beautiful place on the other side, haunted and ancient. A place between worlds, of which one could access all of Thedas, and even worlds beyond, from an Elluvian. There where more. Hundreds more. Most were broken, or otherwise locked, but as Morrigan had stated, there were some that still worked, and could possibly be opened. She believed that Corypheus would use this place to access the Fade, in the flesh. Just as he had tried to do with the Anchor, that was crafted to open and control the Breach.

     Ophelia could not let that happen. Though she agreed with many of her followers that there was so much they had yet to understand about the Fade, and all of its spiritual inhabitants, she accepted long before that there was no future that could include it being opened to Thedas. She knew, and at first hand, what waited on the otherside should Corypheus suceed in breaching the Veil once more.

     But she had given it alot of thought recently. Thinking of anomalies such as Cole, a benevolent spirit that only wanted to help, and a dear friend. The possible spirit of Justinia, or her memory or an imposter, whatever it was, that helped herself, Blackwall, Hawke and Stroud navigate the Fade. They weren't evil, were they? And surely there were more such entities that exited. Whether they were there, somewhere, in Thedas, or in the Fade, surely they meant no more harm than a frightened beast in the wild, but still. A frightened animal could cause harm if approached, could it not?

    And a Pride demon, a Nightmare demon and an Envy demon. All three she had faced first hand, among many others that were inherently malevolent in nature. Would that be the future of Thedas if Corypheus succeeded? To plague the world with demons and darkspawn until it all burned, simply because he could not touch the gods himself? Ophelia would die before she let that happen. And perhaps that was how it would be.

     But she refused to bring a child into the world with such a future. Either she would fix the world, or there would be no future. At all.

     ...She stood on the ramparts and watched the sunset. In a few days they would march south to the Arbor Wilds, for that was presumably the Elder One's location. He pulled his Venatori troops, and any other allies there. Surely he would be there soon as well. Ophelia was tempted to leave sooner, as to reach the Wilds that much sooner than he did, but she knew it not wise. She needed her allies.

     Josephine sent word to all their noble allies yet in Orlais, and to Celine to mobilize her troops, and Cullen sent word to the Wardens and Templars they allied with. Leliana had suggested sending her scouts ahead but Ophelia was against it. Without a full force, they woud surely parish. Though they also risked the element of surprise by garnishing a full legion. Either way, this could possibly be their final assault on Corypheus' forces, and they needed to make it count.

     She sighed heavily. The weight of the world on her shoulders. With every course of action, every decision she made...she would change everything? She very well had. Slayed demons, closed the breach, ended wars, genocide, and terrible evil. And could this possibly be the end of it all?...Or would it ever end?

     She felt a hand on her shoulder then. A loving hand, that ran fingers through her hair. It could be none other than Thom Rainier. Her husband. She turned to face him. Unable to hide her fear, her worry, and ultimately, her foreboding.

     "I know that look." he said softly as he brushed a hair from her face.

     "You know me that well?" he smiled at her words. She had said that to him once before, and no doubt he remembered her punching him in the arm shortly after.

     "I do, love." he caressed her cheek with his thumb. "You don't think you're going to make it out alive. And I've seen hundreds of men with that same look in their eyes, my lady. We call it a 'death wish'." he smirked. But there was sadness in his eyes.

     "I don't wish for death." she chided. "But it may be inevitable." he turned away then. He looked out over the stone railing that seperated them from the soldiers below who readied themselves for the oncoming excursion.

     "Those people down there are just as willing to die for you as you them, love." he said. "I don't think it could get anymore poetic than that." he said a little snidely.

     He turned around then, and faced her. On his face lie a grim and serious expression then. Sadness or sorrow, or utter dread of events to come, she knew  not what it was. But she knew what lie in this man's heart.

     "But you're not going to die. I'm sure as hell not going to let you." he approached her and wrapped his big arms around her. Encompassing her in his embrace.

    "I promise you, I will fight harder than any man out there. I will fight harder than I ever have...There's always something to die for, love. But something to live for? You don't find that every day."

     They breathed in and out as they held eachother. And Ophelia prayed he was right. That they would live. That he would live. Then he spoke again. Warming her heart.

     "You're worth living for, my lady."

    

    


	39. The Knowledge We Seek

     The Arbor Wilds.

     A majestic land far to the south, where the trees themselves seemed to whisper ancient secrets. Rare and mystical plants and flowers, and beautiful ruins.

     But there was little beauty there now, for there was a war being fought. Upon arriving, Cullen set to barricade the Venatori from escaping, pouring forces where ever they could spare, as Ophelia planned to skirt the frontal fight, and sneak into the ruins. And sneak she very well could. It seemed simple, but it was far from, as they lacked the element of surprise, laying onto the enemy from all sides, and no doubt pressing on Corypheus' loyals.

     Ophelia doubted he cared though. For whatever it was he was after was far too important. He would only be as cautious as was required to complete his task.

     In tow was the Seeker, Dorian Pavus, Cole, and Blackwall. Solas had asked to go before leaving Skyhold, but Ophelia had refused. She urged that he remain with his Dalish love, for she would need him more. And if this fight were to end badly, Ophelia could not live with him dying on her account before ever seeing his children brought into this world. Reluctantly, he agreed. Though she imagined his arcane knowledge would've been useful.

     Though Morrigan joined them, with her mastery of magic, albeit intimidating, Ophelia still welcomed. She accepted having to trust magic. For it wasn't prayer alone that would see them through. They needed power. Maker help them.

     Bull, Varric, Viv and Sera were put where they were most needed, in the frey. Two talented archers, a powerful Circle mage, and a bloodthirsty warrior were just what the forward fight needed. Ophelia's advisors organized the troops, and Ophelia and her most loyal followers set off through the hidden paths.

     And Ophelia did what she did best. Clung to the shadows as if she were a demon herself.

     But it was a hard fight. Mainly because the Venatori and their mages were powerful in their number, and it proved too difficult to skirt them entirely. And Thom and Cass were relentless. They flanked Ophelia diligently, and when ambushed, they practically threw Ophelia behind them to protect her. Which would have been endearing, were they not making themselves an obvious target. Luckily, Dorian's knack for fire magic, and Morrigan's barriers allowed them to hit the enemy hard before they got too close. Ophelia hadn't even needed to draw her blades.

     They drew ever so near to the temple.

     Cole could hear the whispers. The ancient voices, and their hidden secrets and knowledge. This was a sacred place. And Corypheus aimed to desecrate it with his plot, Ophelia was sure...

     ...There he was, on the bridge. And standing before him, blocking entry to the temple, Ophelia knew not who. Though she could see the familiar mark of the vallaslin under their hoods. They were elves, whoever they were...but these ruins had been abandoned for centuries. Who could they be?

     The Elder One was stopped, before crossing the bridge. He had activated an ancient barrier, stopping him in his tracks, holding him there.

     He screamed in agony, but it was brief, for the power of the mechanism consumed him. Disintegrating him, right before them all. Ophelia stood in disbelief. Then slowly she crept down the bank to investigate, wary of the elven creatures that retreated to the temple.

     Nothing remained of his corpse, and Ophelia noticed other bodies lying nearby. The bodies of the last few remaining Grey Wardens that had managed to be corrupted and were loyal to Corypheus, the few who were turned before Ophelia put a stop to their blood magic at Adamant...There was a spark. Unholy, and most certainly it didn't bode well. It was red and gleaming, and floated, ethereal, from where Corypheus once stood to the nearby Warden. And all to abruptly he began to change.

     Ophelia stepped back in horror as she watched Corypheus take form once more. So this was the key to his immortality. The taint of the blight allowed him to pass on his form to anyone corrupted by it. And Wardens were most certainly corrupted, in order to combat darkspawn. And these poor unfortunate souls were directly linked to Corypheus' corruption through their meddling with magic. Making them the perfect vessels.

     She thanked the Maker in that moment that Blackwall wasn't truly a Warden...and then cursed herself for promising him to them. And cursed him and his honor.

     They ran...as fast as their feet would allow for the temple's large door. It closed behind them, and sealed itself in binding magic. Ophelia could still hear the roaring outside, the Archdemon, Corypheus' tainted dragon companion returned. But they were safe for the moment. Though she couldn't be sure for how long. Whoever those elves were that guarded the temple, Ophelia had no way of knowing if they were a threat.

     And there was something else afoot.

     Morrigan read the elvish inscriptions on the vigil in the hall. There was something called the Well of Sorrows, hidden somewhere inside the vicinity. She had no idea what it did, none of them did. Nor did they how it could be connected to the Elluvian Corypheus had been seeking. Or were they wrong entirely? Had Morrigan's information been incorrect?

     Ophelia wished she had brought Solas afterall. His knowledge of the Fade, and Dalish history and religion would've come in handy. Though Dorian had a pretty good guess. This was the Temple of Mythal. An ancient god to which the Dalish still clung to. Perhaps whatever the Well was, it was somehow connected to Mythal, and mystical in property. And no doubt the elven Sentinels that guarded it would know.

     Ophelia felt like she would regret her decision, but she agreed to perform a ritual at Morrigan's suggestion that would allow them access to the Inner Sanctum of the Temple. From what she could read of the inscription, it was the only way to gain access to the Well. And she pressed that it was imperative for them to see exactly what it was that Corypheus was after. Though Ophelia would've preferred to leave this ancient and dangerous ground well alone.

     ...She stepped carefully, for wherever she stepped, she could not go backward, or she would have to start again. It was a puzzle, a carefully crafted riddle, directly connected to the door ahead. Each tile lit up with magical intent at her step, and each tile needed to be lit simultaneously to gain access. She mistepped, only once, for then she was close enough to see ahead, see the map of the floor in her head. The others watched as she walked over the tiles, counting each one, memorizing their placement. Then she began once more, stepping left, then right, then left again, and the tiles lit up. She followed the path up to the door, and the other followed behind her, and with one more step, the entire floor was aglow. And the door opened.

     But on the other side there were screams to be heard. Somehow, perhaps before even they or Corypheus arrived, the Venatori gained access to the Inner Sanctum, via a hidden tunnel, and blasted their way in to the hall. But there they were, falling to the floor as the vigilant Sentinels shot them full of arrows. They jumped from the stairwell to the floor infront of them. Guilded bows knocked with arrows, ready to fire.

     "Wait!" said Ophelia. She put a hand up to stop Cass and Thom as they pulled their swords. They obeyed and sheathed their blades once more. She stepped forward...slowly, hands raised, with caution.

     "We mean this place, and you, no harm." she glanced down at a dead mage. "They are not our allies either." she stated.

     The Sentinel that stood before her, mere feet away now, the very same one that had been on the bridge, eyed her with slight curiosity in his features. He cocked his head to the side.

     "Who are you?" he asked. "That you, like them, seek entry to this place?" he raised his bow once more. Bad move, for in one swift movement, Blackwall stood in front of her, blade pointed in the elf's face.

     "There is a Darkspawn outside these walls, that seeks whatever is in this temple. And we are here to stop him." Thom said firmly. "We are not your enemy...but if you so much as-"

     "Thom." Ophelia interrupted softly. Then she gently put a hand up to lower his sword. Then she stepped infront of him again. "There is no need for further bloodshed. That is not why we have come."

     "We may not have a choice." said Cassandra. "If more Venatori arrive..."

     The elf withdrew his bow then, and eyed Ophelia carefully. His eyes seeming so ancient...serene.

     "If you truly come peacefully then prove so." he said. "And help us guard this temple. For more of these men will come."

     Ophelia nodded, and the elf called for his archers to stand down. And a good thing too, for not seconds later, more mages entered the hall. Together they dispatched of them, most swiftly. These elves were talented with their bows, and it was an elegant and beautiful thing to see them fight. They lept through the air far more gracefully than any mundane rogue warrior. And far more adeptly than Ophelia ever could. She was greatful they were on her side.

     When the hall was clear of enemies once more the elf spoke. This time his words seemed to forwarn.

     "Who are you?" Ophelia had asked.

     "We are those that guard the Vir Abelasan." he said plainly. "We sleep, and wake only to defend this place from outsiders." he paced as he spoke, his eyes wandering to each of them. "Outsiders like yourselves, and those we defeated."

     "Wait, you're saying you've guarded this place for centuries?" asked Dorian. "Fascinating...and it doesn't get dull?" he jested. The Sentinal stared at him blankly.

     "We have relinquished any ties to the outside world." the elf replied. "With every waking this world becomes less and less familiar, and our ties to it less and less. Our purpose is only to keep Mythal's ground from being corrupted. So that none may enter who is not chosen." he turned back to Ophelia. "You. You have completed the ritual to gain entry. But you have not been chosen. Why?"

     It was Morrigan's turn to speak.

     "We seek the knowledge of the Well." she said. The elf glared at her. Ophelia was tempted to punch her for meddling.

     "The knowledge of the Vir Abelasan is not yours to possess, human." his voice was calm, but there was anger in his stare.

     "We seek it only to understand what Corypheus is after. To defeat him." Ophelia assured. But it helped little.

     "No." pressed the elf. "That is not the way." he eyed her, as if he knew, as if he knew everything it seemed. Such power in his presence. It was rather intimidating.

     "What do you mean no?" Morrigan clenched her fists. This wouldn't bode well.

     "I'd sooner see it destroyed than used against it's purpose!" his snapped at her. His voice a commanding and threatening tone. Then, in an instant, he tore off through the hall. Morrigan, taking the form of a bird, flew after him.

     Fuck. Ophelia knew something was amiss upon entering this place. She and the others tore after them, and Ophelia knew full well in her heart that Morrigan would probably kill the elf, before letting him destroy the Well.

     They chased the Sentinels and their arcane sleuth through the inner workings of the temple, but not before being stopped by more Venatori that had breached it. And none other than Calpernia, their leader stood among them. It seemed that she, the Elder One's most loyal harem, had been sent ahead in his stead, and reached the temple before they. But she hadn't reached the Well, and they still had time.

     Dorian threw up a barrier with his staff and struck the nearest mage with a magnificent orb of fire. The warriors charged. Cole, who was just as fierce, if not fiercer in rogue abilities than Ophelia, took a spiritual form of sorts. Invisible to the naked eye, he snuck behind the enemy and struck hard with his daggers. Passing through them with his killing blow. At that moment he was no mere boy. But a deadly assassin.

     Ophelia drew her blades to defend herself, and in that moment, her mark seemed to spark of it's own accord. Though there was no rift nearby. Odd, but useful it seemed it's purpose was now. To defend her. She raised her hand high in the air as the magic enveloped her. She could control it. She could use it...and with it, she opened a rift, and sent the mages through...

     ...All that remained was the body of Calpernia, who yet lived, though injured from Dorian's magic. The others stared at Ophelia, in shock and disbelief at her power, but all Ophelia could think to do was approach Calpernia cautiously. She had been disarmed of her staff, but could still be dangerous nonetheless.

     The woman haphazardly stood to face them all, and Ophelia. There was anger and determination in her eyes at first, then suddenly, as if in a moment of clarity, her gaze softened.

     "You will not be able to stop what has begun." she said to them. "The Elder One will use me as his vessel, and with me, he will gain the knowledge and power therein." her eyes, and her voice, seemed trancelike. As if it were not she that spoke those words, but corruption within her. Controlling her. It was just as it had been with the Wardens and Templars. And even the Lord Seeker. Ophelia approached her, daggers withdrawn. She meant this woman no harm.

     "Please, Calpernia." she pleaded. "There is still time. We can stop this." she said.

     "Things biting...gnawing...tearing me apart...I must do it...I must be the one." whispered Cole. Calpernia's thoughts, the corruption gnawing at the fiber of her being.

     "But you can't." she said softly. "No one can."

     "We can offer you refuge." said Ophelia, ignoring the curious looks from her companions. "We can keep you safe from the Elder One...he won't hurt you."

     "...You can't protect me." she stated, and a single tear streamed down her cheek. Ophelia had seen that look before. Many times. On so many faces. She knew what it meant.

     She was helpless to save her. If she had been closer, or quicker...But she wasn't. She couldn't stop Calpernia from pulling the knife from her belt, and pressing it into her own stomach.

     Blood spilled everywhere, she fell, and Ophelia caught her. And there she lay in the Inquisitor's arms, dying. No amount of magic would save her for all too soon the light was leaving her eyes.

     With one last breath she raised a bloodstained hand to Ophelia's face, cupping her cheek, before her arm went limp and so did her body.

     Enough. No more.

     How much more death would this Elder One cause? Among his own people even?!...Ophelia could not bear it. She wiped the tears and blood from her face and pressed on. In anger. In agony. And she knew what she must do.

     ...They reached the Well in enough time to stop Morrigan. Barely.

     There she was. And there was the Sentinel, about to release his arcane ability and vanquish the Well, to keep it from being used. Ophelia grabbed Morrigan and threw her back. Her actions stopping the elf, for a moment. She didn't know why, but he simply turned to gape at her, in his disbelief. That Ophelia should stop her own companion from interrupting him. He found it curious.

     "You would let him destroy it!" barked Morrigan in her anger. "And all the knowledge it may contain! When it may very well be our only means of stopping Corypheus!" her eerie yellow eyes sparkled in anger.

     "We don't know what it could do, Morrigan!...I'd sooner leave it well alone!...If it will stop Corypheus from using it..."

     The elf walked over to Ophelia. Temporarily distracting Morrigan from her anger. He stared at her for a moment.

     "What is the meaning of your action, asha?" he asked her.

     "Our enemy is out there, not here." she stated. "This place is sacred to you. And it's power we do not understand. It isn't worth the risk. We will find another way to defeat the Darkspawn, if we must."

The Sentinel studied her carefully. Eyeing everything about her. As if by his age, or some ancient ability, he could see right through her.

     "It seems your purpose is pure then." said the elf. "Ar lasa mala revas. I give you permission." he bowed.

"You would let her drink from the Well?" asked Morrigan in astonishment. He nodded. "If anyone should do it, it should be me! I have more ability than you! I am a mage! You have absolutely no understanding of this sort of thing!"

"I don't think understanding has anything to do with it." said Dorian. He crossed his arms. "I am a mage as well, and I'm sure I could do it. But that decision is not mine to make. No matter how stupid I think all of this is."

"We don't even know what this could do to you, or the..." Cass's words trailed off. Realizing she would give away Ophelia's secrets, she shut her mouth. Perhaps this elf already knew just by looking at her, but nevertheless thought her worthy. If she were willing to take the risk. But Morrigan didn't know.

"The voices...they would be inside your head." said Cole.

Ophelia sighed. "Voices I could live with." she admitted. Then Thom approached her.

"We knew the risks we were taking." he stated. As if reading her thoughts. "If it would mean stopping Corypheus." his words were heavy hearted. And Ophelia knew why.

She had come into this mess expecting to die. That hadn't changed.

"I will drink from the Well." she stated, much to Morrigan's dismay.

...She stepped carefully into the pool. Hearing and feeling the power within. Casting all fear aside, she drank, but immediately regretted it.

Everything and everyone was gone. In this vision it was only her. Standing there, alone in the dark. The shadows. The silence. Much like the rogue she was...Then she heard it. The voice that compelled. The power. Was this perhaps the voice that had whispered, willing her to the Conclave? Or was it something else? Something unholy, evil. Or something else entirely. Nevertheless, she spoke out into the dark.

"I seek the means to destroy the entity that is Corypheus." she said firmly. "Grant me this power. And do with me what you will. For it is the only thing I request."

The whispers answered. Their voices intermingling, slowly becoming one. A coherent sound that filled her ears.

_I shall grant what you seek_ , spoke the voice.


	40. Now You Must Endure

     Ophelia woke from her dreams to find her friends standing over her. They thought surely she was dead, but she yet lived. And she knew what to do.

     Corypheus had arrived, but too late. When Ophelia drank from the Well of Sorrows the water dissipated, the magic gone, for reasons Ophelia knew not, but it was done. Any chance he had of still taking it's purpose was gone. That was twice she had done that to him. First with the Anchor, now the Well. She revelled in the thought and a small smirk appeared on her face as she ushered her followers through the Elluvian before them.

     As duty was no longer required, the Sentinel had left, and Ophelia pitied him briefly. Though she knew very little of Elvhen, she learned his name meant sorrow. And sorrow she felt then, for all their knowledge, all that they knew, all the followers of Mythal were, she now possessed. And there would be a price for this knowledge, and Ophelia assured herself it would be a steep one.

     ...They were back at Skyhold. The Well desecrated, void of purpose, and the Elluvian shattered to bar entry from the Arbor Wilds. They sent word to Cullen, and learned that the battle had been won, though Corypheus was gone, and so was his Archdemon. Their whereabouts unknown.

     But this was not the last of them. Of that they could be certain. Though Ophelia was greatful to yet live another day.

     And she heard the call. The shattered whispers like a haze in her mind, but she could feel their meaning. The boon she had been granted. She knew how to kill the darkspawn Magister that plagued them so.

     Upon their return, Ophelia met with her advisors at earliest convenience in the War Room, to discuss all that she learned. And but of course Morrigan barged in on them.

     "So the rumors about you are true, afterall." she stated, folding her arms. "You have no trust in mages or their power." she was obviously sore about not drinking from the well, but her argument was rather accusatory.

     "That is not why I drank from the Well, Morrigan." Ophelia almost wanted to roll her eyes at the woman. "And I do trust some magic, do I not? You yet stand here, as do other magical allies. It wasn't mistrust that caused me to act."

     "Then what was it then?" she asked.

     "If anyone should take risks, or sacrifices for this cause, it should be me." Ophelia replied. "It was my doing that set this in motion." she looked at all of them. "Because I intervened, I corrupted the Anchor, and denied Corypheus acces to the Fade...denied him of a great many things. And it will be me who stops him. If I must die trying." she glared at Morrigan, who really didn't quite know how to take her words. But she accepted that answer nonetheless, for it was too late to argue. Josephine, who knew her secrets, could say nothing at those words either.

     "So what so we do now?" Cullen asked. "How do we kill Corypheus? A darkspawn that cannot be killed?" So he had read the reports. Diligent of him.

     "His Archdemon." Ophelia said to them, as the voices swirled in her head. "That is the source of his power. It is no archdemon but in fact a dragon of which he invested some of his power within.  And with it removed, Corypheus will be weakened. And we can sieze the opportunity and strike a killing blow."

     "Are you sure of this?" Morrigan questioned. "How do you know of this to be true?...Dammit! I should've been the one to drink! You probably don't even understand the Well's knowledge, or could you interpret..."

     Ophelia stepped in her face. "If you had...who's to say you would know? Who's to say there would be the same outcome? Answer me that, mage."

     "I believe what the Inquisitor says." stated Leliana. Then she smiled a little at the corner of her mouth at Morrigan's expression. "You don't know the Herald like I do."

     Josephine sighed. "How would you even kill the Archdemon?" she asked.

     At her words, the voices whispered, calling to Ophelia. It was rather amusing, how they played the strings on her soul like a harp. They answered Josephine's question.

     "There is an alter to Mythal...there." she pointed to it's location on the map before them. "There lies the answer. There is where I must go."

     "And in the meantime?" asked Leliana.

     "Be ready for anything." Ophelia answered.

     ...Before departing again, Ophelia took a moment to still herself. She and Thom and Cassandra met at the stables, and Dorian was soon to follow, curious of the affair. There she took her daggers and sharpened them at the grindstone, lost in her thoughts. It was all a lot to take in. There was much she didn't understand either. Though she appeared confident in front of Morrigan and the others, inside she wasn't. Far from it, in fact. But there was much toying around in her head. Beckoning to her.

     "You have no idea how grateful I am that we're alive." Thom said to them, as he leaned against a post. All around their remaining forces were taking a moment's rest. Even though Ophelia was certain that rest would be short lived, she was greatful they received it. Her family had returned to the Free Marches, and they were safe, but part of her wished they were there still.

     "I am grateful as well," said Cass. "But we won't know how grateful we will be in the days ahead." at least she was honest. "And you say the way to defeat the Elder One is to slay his Archdemon?" she asked.

     "Yes." was all Ophelia could say.

     "I'm curious, Herald." said Dorian. "How exactly has drinking that water affected you?" Was that a hint of sarcasm in that? Or earnesty?

     "There is no simple way to describe it." she said them. "Part of me remains the same...but part of me is different. There is no easy way to say it. And I have yet to know the price I will pay for this knowledge." she continued to sharpen her blade.

     "Hearing voices sounds bad enough." said Dorian. No humor in his expression. Then his words were hushed. "And what of your...child, dear?"

     She glanced at Thom. He wouldn't look at her. Perhaps there was a part of him that regretted letting her do it. Or regretted letting her stay in the first place, instead of kidnapping her in the middle of the night and wisking her away.

    "I don't know." she sighed. "The only thing I have learned besides how to kill Corypheus is that I am supposedly bound to Mythal as a price." she stated.

     "That is it?" asked Cass.

     "I asked for no more knowledge than what I needed." Ophelia wiped her blade with a rag as she spoke. "I didn't ask for the 'power of the gods' or the ancient secrets of the universe...I only asked to stop the world from ending. And any who drink and learn the well's secrets are bound to Mythal...in their way."

     "And the elf didn't think to warn you?" asked Thom.

     "He did." Ophelia looked up at him. "He didn't need words to enlighten, love. I understood."

     Before further words could be spoken, a familiar face appeared. It was Solas, dragged away momentarily from his love, in learning the Herald had returned. The expression on his face was an interesting one.

     "The Herald of Andraste yet lives." he said to her.

     "Aneth ara, Solas." she greeted, without thinking.

     "And she speaks elven, no less." he raised a brow. "I've heard the rumors. Read the reports. What knowledge did you gain exactly from the Vir'abelasan?" he asked out if genuine curiosity. The others gaped at her, also quite curious.

     "Most of what I know is in fragments." she admitted. "The knowledge passed on from previous Elvhen. Those bound to Mythal in such a way. As for this diety herself, I have yet to know."

     There was more. Much more that she knew. But now was not the time nor place to reveal. Her knives had been sharpened, and without further delay she would travel to the altar. Along with only those daring enough to follow. All she could say to Solas as she arose to depart was "Mala suledin nadas."

     _Now you must endure_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (using my creative freedom I mused upon exactly what knowledge Ophelia could possibly gain from the Well of Sorrows, non canon to the game. And as 90% of it is headcanon, and rewritten anyway, I figured why the hell not. So yes. She can speak elvish. Though it is mostly phrasing taken out of context I suppose. Voices man, voices.)


	41. The Guardian of Mythal

     Deep in the wood, hidden to the unseeking eye, was an altar. Unkempt, and long deserted, grown over. It was quiet there, as nothing disturbed the silence, save for the soft footsteps of the Inquisitor and her followers.

     That handful of people, who stepped carefully, keeping a watchful eye for danger. Though Ophelia felt it in the wind. There was no danger there. Not yet. But there would be soon.

     The beautiful green growth that surrounded the statue seemed almost mystical itself. Ophelia parted a branch away from the tree that covered part of the relic. She ran a hand over the stone. It was beautiful. A woman, with wings stretched, and a mask, or a face that was in no way resembling human or elf kind.

     It seemed familiar to her. But she had never been there before. Perhaps it was the magic of the well, but her intuition rang with truth. This was where they needed to be. Her followers offered to give her privacy, though they didn't wander too far, and Ophelia could feel Thom's eyes on her from afar, ever watching, protecting. It comforted her.

     But Morrigan remained. It was the one thing she asked for if she were to continue aiding Ophelia. Curiosity of the unknown overwhelmed the mage, and Ophelia in part understood. And it gave them the chance to speak candidly for a moment.

     "You must know, Morrigan..." Ophelia began, startling the woman with unexpacted conversation. "I value your aid in all this."

     "Do you now?" she asked, raising a brow.

     "I do." Ophelia reassured. "My feelings have not changed. Regardless of what may come, I have a thought of the woman that aided me in Hilamsharal. With little cause. But that you and I seek the same outcome in all this. You don't know who I am, but yet here you are."

     "Indeed." was all the woman could say.

     Most of their words were not spoken, but yet were said by the look they shared then. But all too soon the moment ended, as Ophelia felt the whispers, beckoning her to call upon them. So she did. She called upon the entity that willed her to this place. And so, with a wisp of smoke, it appeared. It was a woman. One who looked much like Morrigan. She had the same eyes.

     "Mother!" exclaimed Morrigan.

     "Asha'belannar. Flemeth." Ophelia said knowingly. Morrigan stared in disbelief.

    " _You_ are Mythal? That cannot be!" the mage welled in emotion.

     No. Not Mythal persay. But perhaps a vessel for the entity. Whatever it was. One who granted a boon of her own.

     If she who drank from the Well could slay the guardian of Mythal...she would be granted it's blessing. And it's power. The power to slay the 'archdemon' that plagued them.

     This guardian of Mythal, a dragon.

     Ophelia bowed in respect to Flemeth's task set before her. Though Morrigan did not understand, Ophelia felt she knew. Morrigan stricken with grief at her mother, a witch or a demon, that thrived through the ages by taking the bodies of her children as vessels. But that would not happen to Morrigan. Not today. No, today they would slay a dragon, and tomorrow, Corypheus.

     For a dragon she could handle.

     No one questioned when the creature approached, flying through the air, descending upon them. The warriors readied their weapons. The mages cloaked in their protective magical form, and Ophelia and Cole, the rogues who stood as if in the shadows, waiting, watching.

     "Finally, a fight to look forward to." muttered Thom, and even the Seeker couldn't help but smile.

     Ophelia didn't make the same mistake she made before, and stood with her guard, fought along side her friends. She didn't fight in the shadows. She would revel in this day. As always, for it could be her last. They slashed at the dragon's legs, avoiding it's horrific bite, and dodging it's flames. The beast roared...and when it all but seemed to perish it...stopped. Ophelia held up a hand, stopping their advance, as the dragon backed away.

     She heard it. Felt it's call. The power, the form of it...the shadows. It all sounded muddled in her head, but yet the voice beckoned. Everyone simply stood and watched as she held out a hand to it, and it came at her calling. Approaching slowly. And then, the power welled within her. She locked eyes with the beast, and in that brief moment, the power, the thoughts, the voices, the magic shared.

     This beast was hers to command...

     ...She _would_ defeat Corypheus, or die trying. This was once again forefront in her mind as she stood before her advisers and inner circle, telling them what she learned. All that was left to do was to find him. Though they had been searching for his location long before now, and though he appeared in the Arbor Wilds, it seemed he had disappeared once more.

     But he wouldn't hide forever would he? Ophelia could feel it in the War Room as her mark reacted to the flash of green light outside the stained glass windows. She knew what it meant, even as the others gaped in horror.

     The Breach, it seemed, had been reopened once more. Which could only mean one thing. The Elder One was in the Valley of Sacred Ashes. Where it all began. And where, one way or another, it would end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I purposefully cut out alot of convo between Morrigan and Flemeth, as to keep the narrative concentrated on Ophelia and the act of invoking the guardian. It seemed more imperative, though in-game, one can learn much of Flemeth's connection to Mythal, and is a very good part of the game, I feel.)


	42. Where It All Began

 

     Ophelia could not delay. Perhaps it was against wiser minds, for Cullen had warned that not all their numbers had returned from the Arbor Wilds, and perhaps it was against better judgement. But with or without a full legion it could not wait a moment longer. So she advised for them to rendezvous at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and she would ride out ahead.

     She didn't go alone. The Inner Circle followed closely, and a small force with them as well. Back to where it began.

     Her faith had never wavered, regardless of the power she possessed. She knew in her heart, felt it in her soul, that hero or not, she would end it all. And these people that protected her, who guided her, who believed in her...they needed her protection too.

     The world needed her protection then. Whatever she was before, it did not matter now. Herald of Andraste or no...she would be the Herald of Thedas.

     For she saw the future that lie ahead if Corypheus succeeded. Saw the darkness, the terror, the death that awaited. Every night it had plagued her, choking her, gripping her soul with fear. Filling her heart with fear. But no more. Once before she tangled with a nightmare. And shoved a dagger through it's face, ripping it apart. And she would do the same with the Elder One. She who took his mark, took his plans. And pissed on them.

     She couldn't be afraid.

     ...Once again the Temple was desecrated. Soldiers that had guarded it's sacred ground lie dead. Killed by the demons that fell from the heavens once more. Blood stained the rubble. Bodies ripped apart. Ophelia didn't look away. She wanted to remember that. For she would spend her remaining hours avenging that.

     She heard the roar of the archdemon creature as it approached, and saw the darkspawn as he stood atop the ruins. He had been waiting for her. He knew she would come. For through the orb he used to enact the Anchor he called her to him. And she answered. And begged for his blood to be spilt.

     Another roar could be heard through the heavens. And Ophelia smirked a little as she saw the Elder One's surprise. The guardian had come. It would challenge his dragon. And she prayed that they had the strength to tear through it.

     The battle commenced. The demon called his minions who encircled them. Like wolves to their prey. But Ophelia was not illprepared. Once more she called upon the Anchor to send them through the Fade, as she had done with Venatori before. She was stronger than they anticipated. But so were they.

     They continued to advance, pressing hard on their smaller numbers. But above, there was some victory, as her Guardian proved equal match for the tainted dragon. They tangled in the air, the colossal beasts slashing and biting, until falling through the sky, aiming for the temple.

     The ground shook. Surprising all of them...the temple was rising. Loose rock fell around them, and Ophelia motioned for the party to regroup, to possibly take cover. She cut through the demons in front of her, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Thom doing the same, slashing and bashing through the frey to get to her...Then she saw it.

     The Seeker fell.

     She had been tangling with a demon, trying to bash it with her shield when another drew near, and she didn't see it. Ophelia could never have reached her in time. The demon ran its enormous claws through her stomach and she fell.

     Ophelia ran to her. Not caring what was in her way. Thom, who had been near, knocked the creatures back as they ran to her, and Ophelia scooped her up into her arms. She yet lived.

     There was so much blood. It spilled out, and Ophelia tried desperately to stop it. Frantically she did so, but nothing was helping. No mages could come to her aid, they had become seperated from them in the fighting, and she knew not where they were. She started crying.

     Cass pulled her face to hers, with all the strength she had left. Cole, who had seen what happened, ran over then.

     "No." he whispered. His tone heavy and sad.

     "It's over. Tell me it's over." said Cassandra weakly. Tears ran down her cheeks. Ophelia sobbed.

     "It's over." she lied then. "It's going to be alright." she held the Seeker close.

     "There's a light...I can see a light...can I go to it?" Cole whispered. "Can I go home now?"

     Ophelia nodded as she rocked, feeling Cassandra's body go limp.

     "Yes, Seeker...You can go home now." she whispered through her tears.

     Seconds or minutes passed by and all Ophelia could do was remember every word she ever said to her. Every promise she made. Every moment that had ever mattered.

     She brushed the tears from her cheeks as she got up. Then she ran.

     "Ophelia wait!" she heard Thom call, but she didn't listen. She ran, and he probably followed, as with Cole, but they couldn't stop her. She darted up the steps, after the blasted creature she aimed to kill. She heard and felt a crash behind her, something fell, blocking her friends from following. But she pressed forward. Clawing her way up.

     The ruins had risen into the sky, and it would be a long fall if her steps faltered. But yet she ran, avoiding fallen rock. She reached the top of the first staircase to see a break between buildings. A gap between, five feet across. She jumped. The dragons flew by, still immersed in combat. She was closer, and could almost hear the guardians thoughts, as if they were her own.

     It was nearly drained of power. And as she climbed, so did it. It rose high in the sky, almost touching the Breach itself. She saw it kiss the stars it seemed, before falling backwards, right into the tainted dragon, both barreling toward the ruins...toward her. She leapt out of the way, as the ground shook beneath her.

     When the dust settled, she could see that the Guardian was gone. All that remained was an injured black dragon, with a menacing growl. In the fall, his wings had been damaged. He couldn't fly away, but he still had claws and fangs.

     She dodged as he spewed flames at her. His mighty roar was deafening. She could see where his scales had been torn from his side, the tainted blood running down his side. He was weak, but he would not die without a fight.

     In one swift movement she dodged his slashes and got right up in his face. She as she had seen before, when he opened his mouth in a roar, she ran her daggers through, right into his skull.

     She saw the light leave the dragon's eyes. The beast was free. Corypheus would control him no more. The demon's tainted power, eerie red glow and all, left the beast's corpse and fled back to his master. Ophelia breathed in and out, then she made her way up. For the demon was mortal now, and she had a few choice words for him...

     ...Thom and the others tried to remove the rubble blocking their way, but with no luck. And there were yet demons that surrounded them, lead by a fierce Pride demon. It was one hell of a fight. But all Thom could think of as he and the others fought was praying. Praying to the Maker that they would succeed. And prayed his love would make it through.

     She lost so much, hurt so badly, and now, she was on her own. All the promises he made of protecting her, and what for? When there was nothing he could do for her, but pray. This was a battle he could not fight for her. This was the sacrifice she alone would make.

     In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. And in death...sacrifice. She would've made a good Warden...

     ...There stood the Archdemon Magister Corypheus. The demon that would reign terror down upon them all. Who would destroy the world to prove himself a god.

     "Here we are." bellowed the demon as Ophelia faced him. "Tell me, Herald. Where is your Maker now?!...Call him.  Call his wrath down upon me!" he sneered. "You can't can you?...For he does not exist!" the orb sparked in his hand. "...But I shall free you from this lie on which you linger! Bow before your new god, or die!"

     Ophelia spit in the dirt at his feet and the demon chuckled.

     "You...have been most successful in foiling my plans up to now. But let us not forget what you are. A thief...an interloper. A bothersome gnat." he snarled. "We shall prove here, now, which of us is worthy of godhood."

     Ophelia glared, the fear in her heart long replaced by anger.

     "You are no god." she spat. And he laughed.

     "We shall see!" he rose up in the air, the power of the orb flaring in his clutches, but Ophelia was not afraid. She mustered every bit of strength, and leaped into the air at him, striking as hard as she could, but he threw her back, and she landed hard on the ground. Everything hurt. But especially her hand. She had never had so much pain from the mark before.

     Above them the breach was growing larger. If she didn't stop him now, it would swallow the world. She looked back at the Elder One and dodged, just as magic from the orb flew towards her. It was close. Too close, and she barely scathed by it to stand ready for another launch at him.

     The orb was the source of his power. It, with all the magic it contained, could end him and close the breach. She ran toward him, just as he landed, and she barreled i to him. She cut deeply with her knives. So deeply they became mangled, the deavonling scales tearing from the hilt. There was a spark, it came from her hand, and she reached up to grasp his throat.

     As she did so, she ran Shade deep into his chest. It would be the killing blow. With her hand still gripped around his neck, he fell to his knees.

     "No!" he gasped. "It should not have been this way!" was all he could say weakly. With the mark, she willed the orb to her, knowingly taking it, holding it, as it floated above her palm.

     She held it high, and with all her strength, closed the breach in one final move. And close it did.

     "You wanted into the Fade?!" she asked him then, as she took the power of the Anchor upon herself.

     "Then go there you shall!" she screamed at him as his body dissipated before her eyes, flung into it through the breach as it closed. The power of it knocking her off her feet. Every thing went dark...

     ...Was this it? Was she dead?

     She could see a familiar face in the dark. Such a tiny little face. Who had her smile, and his father's eyes...he beamed up at her. There was something odd about his eyes then. They glowed. A familiar green spark in them. All the secrets of the worlds beyond were hidden in those eyes.

     There were more faces then. Faces she had never seen, but somehow knew. From ancient times long past. They whispered their secrets to her. And she heard them, not in shattered bits, but wholely and completely then. She saw her son in front of her still. He reached out for her. She knelt down and stretched out her arms to hug him, but before he could reach her...

     ...She woke up.  
    


	43. "Dareth Shiral"

       
     Upon the Breach closing, the Inner Circle knew it was done. That the evil had been demolished. All that remained in the sky as the clouds parted, was a faint blue aurora, that shimmered and danced in the heavens. The ruins fell once more, and they were lucky to make it through with minor injury.

     But did their Herald live?

     The way had been cleared, and a path made to the section of the temple where Corypheus had stood, and where Ophelia fought him. They hoped. And they prayed, as they climbed the rubble, searching for her.

     As the clouds parted, there she was. Covered in muck, tired, and a bit mangled...but alive. She haphazardly made it down the steps, and immediately into Thom's arms.

     "You live, and I can breathe again." he whispered.

     Tears of joy, shared by all that stood there. And when they asked what they should do, Ophelia simply said, "Back to Skyhold."

     The bodies of the fallen were honorably collected, but the Seeker, Ophelia went over to, brushed a hair from her face, kissed her forehead, and saw her safely to Skyhold with them. She fought her tears as they marched back to the Inquisition stronghold. She knew Cassandra would not want her to weep. She had died bravely; she had died a hero.

     Though there were those who were in mourning for the dead, none could help but celebrate. It was by the grace of their fallen comrades that they yet lived, and sang and danced and cried joyous tears that their Herald vanquished great evil. They sang, and in their song, told the tales of their heroes.

     But not all were singing. Two weary souls sat at the bottom of the steps to the keep. Thom Rainer, still known to most as Blackwall, leaned back against the step, drink in one hand, sword still in the other. Still covered in muck from slaying demons. Beside him sat the Inquisitor, her armor equally covered in dirt and filth. She leaned back beside him and together they watched the people celebrating.

     "So, will you write to me?" she asked out of nowhere. It would've been a strange question to ask at a time like this, but she had not forgotten his promise to join the Wardens in the north. Blackwall sighed heavily. There were alot of promises they both made, weren't there?

     "You know that I would. And I would come back when ever I could too." he said before taking a swig of his wine.

     "You would?" she asked, her expression rather grim, for someone who just saved the bloody world.

     "I would...but I'm not." she looked up at him, a puzzled look on her face.

     "What do you mean by that?" she asked.

     "I've already lost you many times before, my lady." he eyed his cup. "I'm not losing you anymore." he took a drink again, and then stuck his sword in the dirt. He sighed. "I'm done fighting. Been doing it my whole life." he chuckled a little. "Id rather be a farmer." he said with a smile, then downed his cup of wine.

     "A farmer?" Ophelia asked.

     "Aye. A farmer." he said. "The Callier children will have to understand. My duty has always been to you. And seeing what you did reminded me of that. That we lived. Lived to find other ways to wipe the slate clean."

     "Like...raising a son to 'be a better man', perhaps." she said to him. He looked up at her then.

     "You mean..."

     "I do. As far as I can tell, we will still have a child, Thom." thank the Maker, was all he could think then...

     ...The Spymaster had been patiently waiting, as Ophelia kissed her husband then climbed the steps. She had watched from afar as the Inquisitor smiled. For whatever reason, it warm Leliana's heart that the Herald found a reason to smile. Bit, unfortunately, there was still one last business to take care of. The future of the Inquisition.

     "I'm resigning." said Ophelia. Quite to her surprise, as they walked side by side through the hall. "After the celebration I will make it official. The Inquisition will disband, as far as I'm concerned."

     "Are you sure you want to do that, Ophelia?" Leliana asked. "There is still much we can do. With the power you have, it's a chance to rebuild everything."

     "That's exactly what I'm doing, Leliana. Rebuilding. Starting anew...There's no place for it now. This isn't my home anymore. My home is out there. As is yours."

     Leliana didn't question. For she very well understood. There was much they could do, with or without the Inquisition in acting power. They were all heroes now. And that carried a weight, far more than any army, she supposed. So she nodded, and let Ophelia alone once more...

     ...There was but one more person Ophelia needed to see, before heading to her quarters. Though she was tired, her body ached, and all she wanted to do was sleep...there was yet someone who needed her attention.

     Solas had been with his lover, Gwyn, and was now standing in front of the soon to be ex Inquisitor. He was rather distraught. He had learned the orb had been destroyed when Ophelia defeated Corypheus. He was very much dissapointed, for it was an ancient elven artifact that he had hoped to have returned to its people, so he had said.

     A voice spoke to her, inside her mind. And she understood. She had seen it in her dreams, and she knew now what she must do.

     She put a hand on his shoulder.

     "Solas, whatever you are thinking...don't do it." she said to him. There was anger in his eyes. "It isn't worth it."

     "And what precisely do you think I mean to do?" he asked quietly, too quietly. Ophelia smiled a little at the corner of her lips.

     "Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anaris." she said. He cocked his head in curiousity, and eyed her with an interesting look.

     "You were given more secrets than I expected." he said coldly. Yes, indeed she was...Wisps of smoke eminated from her hand, and he stepped back in surprise as she lifted a hand to his face...and touched his cheek. But when she did his eyes widened. He was frozen in place.

     He was seeing the future then. With the last remaining magic from the Well of Sorrows, he saw the future that his actions would bring. And she spoke to him, she repeated the words the voice whispered to her, her voice sounding hallow, as if it weren't her own.

     "She will die, Elvhen...your vhenan...and your children...will die." spoke the voice. "And you will not be able to undo what has been done."

     A single tear ran down his cheek, and she let go of him then. The smoke cleared, the magic dissipated. And Ophelia spoke with her own words once more.

     "This future you saw...it will happen. But not if you give up your plan and go home." she said.

     "You...you have much knowledge for one so incapable of magic, Inquisitor." he said, and he almost smirked.  
       
     "Ophelia. The Inquistion will disband...and I...will go home." she said. "And perhaps I'm not as incapable of magic as I thought. Perhaps that's why I was able to do everything I've done.  For I've always had the ability, it just never showed it's face, thrusting me into a Circle as a child." she smirked.

     "One can certainly wonder upon it." said Solas, still in disbelief.

     She bowed, and departed. But then she stopped, and turned to him once more.

     "Your name." she said. "It means 'pride'. Maybe you shouldn't let that be your life...Dareth shiral, my friend."

     She turned and left the elf to his bitter truth.  
    


	44. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the following is not connected to the actual game epilogue, but is in part inspired by it, and tailored to fit the non canon story)

 

     ~Vivienne and Sera~

     Though the two were near opposites, in many ways, from personality to the very clothes they wore, somehow...they made it work. Upon the disbanding of the Inquisition, the two returned to Val Royeux. Sera maintained her ties to her 'Friends'...though seemingly conducted less law breaking activity. Vivienne was moved by Sera's views and values. She saw personally that every mage that entered a Circle was treated fairly, and given better living conditions. It was difficult at times, but she did her best to politically push for mages in Ferelden to be given free will to make their own choice to enter a Circle. Though with more free will came more unruly power, and so Vivienne and Sera both enacted alliance with the Templars to keep order when needed. Last anyone had heard, the two shared a villa together.

     ~Cullen~

     With the Templars still in active duty, Cullen saw personally to their order, now that his duties were no longer needed in the Inquisition. It seemed that, with some push on the ex Inquisitor's part, he was made to see how much the order needed him still. And with his guidance, they were able to keep the peace between mages. The rebel mages themselves, who had seen the truth to what their leader sought to do, and the destruction that would've followed, sent word to the Templars offering peace...Though Cullen himself, it seemed, had dissapeared. It was rumored that he was approached by a strange woman, from some far way land unknown, seeking aid. It was rumored also that she spouted horns, though she was much too small to be Qunari. And though none of it made any sense, he was nonetheless gone, and supposedly the woman called herself an Au Ra. Whatever that was.

     ~Josephine~

     The fiery diplomat returned to Antiva, finding much to her surprise that her family arranged a marriege between herself, and a noble lad that her parents approved of. She was terribly upset about it, it seemed. But, as if taking a page from the Inquisitor's book, she decided to give him a chance. She avowed that the only way she would marry him was if he courted her first and that he did. Very well too. Come to find out, the two had much in common, and Josephine found she rather adored the man. She sent invitations to the wedding to everyone she knew, and particularly, to the friends and allies she made as part of the Inquisition.

     ~The Iron Bull~

     Bull and his Chargers travelled all over, lending a hand wherever it was needed.  Sometimes rumored to have sold their swords to nobles for protection, and sometimes rumored to have saved families from bandits. The rumors varied, depending on who was telling the story. But regardless, they were known as the 'unlikely heroes of Thedas' and Bull kind of likes that. It had a ring to it, he would say, as he drank his barrel of brandy and laughed.

     ~Dorian~

     Dorian made up with his father. But on one condition. That he would have no say in what Dorian did with his life, or who he chose to be with. Like so many others, he was inspired by the Inquisitor, and chose forgiveness as the better way. But it was more than inspiration. Ophelia had been his friend. He would always cherish that. And upon reconciling with his family, he was given more political pull, and worked to make amends and repair relations between Tevinter and the Dalish. He wasn't always successful, but he made it his life's work. He avowed to alot of change. He wanted to be proud once more to be Tevinter.

     ~Cole~

     All Cole had ever wanted to do was help. And there were many ways he could. He was made to see that by his Inquisitor friend. He was made to see his true value. And eventually found his place in the world. He wasn't just some wandering spirit, and certainly was no demon, but a person of great gift. And great heart. And he loved children. Very much. He loved their kindness, their kindred spirit, if you will. And always helped him when he could. He found a new friend, one who liked helping too. And she was gifted in the way of seeing that same kindness in him that the Inquisitor had seen, and together they wandered in their way.

     ~Varric~

     The poet returned to Kirkwall, heavy hearted. Still very weighted by the sorrow of losing Hawke, the Hero of Kirkwall, a dear friend, and the sorrow they all suffered at losing the Seeker. But he was welcomed home with open arms. There was a woman there, named Bianca, and the last anyone had heard was that the two were getting into trouble together. But Varric had written a book. Some time ago, he had promised the Inquisitor that while others were telling tales of their Inquisition, he would write a tale of his own. But at the time, he didn't know how the story would end...though he knew now. And he promised his friends a copy when it was finished.

     ~Solas~

     The elvhen twins had been born healthy, and happy. One, a boy, and the other a girl. One had their mother's hair, and their father's eyes, the other, a beautiful mix of the two. No one knew their names. The elves left Ferelden and wandered the wilds. Supposedly returning to the Lavellan clan, Gwyn's family. The Inquisitor had prayed when they left that they would find happiness in one another. And prayed that Solas would never abandon his children. For they needed him. They needed him and their mother to teach them the true elven way. To teach them peace, and kindness, and forgiveness above all.

     ~Leliana~

     At the Herald of Andraste's suggestion, the Spymaster had been named the new Divine. The Chantry would be whole again, under new, and better, guidance. Leliana had assured that she had every intention to see that the Seekers were rebuilt, in Cassandra's honor. It would prove difficult, as would any of it, for there was still much to do. But she saw the truth in what the Herald spoke of, of building a better world, and kept that close to her heart. In following Justinia's footsteps, she conveined the Conclave once more, to discuss peace throughout Thedas, in which all members of the Inquistion attended, before formally disbanding.

     ~Cassandra~

     The Seeker's body was burned, in Andrastian tradition, and a memorial placed in her honor at Skyhold. Cities all throughout Ferelden and Orlais erected statues and monuments to Cassandra, for her heroism, and for her devotion to the Chantry. As for Skyhold itself, it remained a fortress, a beacon in the dark for all to see. It remained a place of refuge for those most in need. Chantry loyals made pilgrimage to it, and lit candles, so many that the light could be seen for miles. And someone placed flowers on the Seekers monument there, though no one ever found out who it was. Some suspected the Herald of Andraste came in the night, cloak in shadows, and left the token...but no one knew for sure.

     ~The Rainiers~

     As for Ophelia and Thom, in a rather poetic gesture, they bought the patch of land where they met, in the Hinterlands. It was quiet there now, and it seemed a good place to start. Rather than joining the Wardens, Thom Rainier did indeed become a farmer, laying down his sword and shield for good, and always praying it would never be needed. Ophelia laid down her daggers, for no longer did she need them. No longer would she fight, in the shadows, or at all. And after a time, it seemed people had forgotten who they were, or that they were there at all, tucked away in the mountains. With no soldiers, no dragons, no demons falling out of the sky. Only the constant sound of birds chirping, always waking them up too early in the morning...

     ...And Gordon Rainier was nearly four. But of course, he had his father's eyes, and his mother's smile. And he was a very smart lad too. Sometimes seeming older, and wiser, than other children his age, the children he sometimes played with when he and his mother visited the nearby village. Ophelia always watched him closely, sometimes too closely, sometimes seeming far too protective of her son. She couldn't help it. It was a miracle, a blessing she felt that she could hold him in her arms and love him,  and didn't want to miss a minute of it.

     Sometimes she wondered what kind of man he would be when he grew up. For he would certainly be different. He had been born perfectly healthy, but she often wondered how the mark had effected him, if it had at all. Or if he would show signs of magic. Or if magic from the Well of Sorrows still lingered.

     Perhaps all of it had protected him somehow, and it was by that magic that he was safe and sound, napping in his parents' large bed as Ophelia sat at the table, reading the last letter, setting it on the pile of papers scattered about. Somewhere in that pile was a copy of Varric's book he wrote about her. He named it Cloak and Dagger. She hadn't a clue why. Perhaps it was some metaphor she had yet to figure out, but it was oddly charming.

     The mark on her hand was gone. All that remained was a thin scar of it now. She didn't know why it disappeared, assumed that maybe with the Breach in the Veil gone, the rifts closed, and the Anchor no longer needed...it slowly dissipated. Perhaps it would return. Eventually claim her, she wasn't sure. But it was gone nevertheless, and Ophelia rubbed the spot where it had been.

     She stood up then, and as she did, her husband entered the cottage, and crossed his arms, shaking his head at their son as he slept.

     "It appears someone has stolen our bed." he smirked.

     "I know, and I haven't the heart to wake him." Ophelia cooed as she walked over to Thom and put her arms around him, lacing her fingers together. He put his arms around her. Hugged her tightly.

     Thom sighed. "Well one of us has to." he said.

     "Do we really, Thom?" Ophelia pleaded. "He looks so peaceful...I wonder what he dreams of."

     "Good things, I'm sure. Unlike his mother." he glanced down at her. "You still have those dreams sometimes. The...nightmares."

     "I always will." said Ophelia. "But I can live with that."

     "Can you?" Thom asked.

     "Yes. I can, love." she held him tighter. "Because I know that it's only a dream. And when I wake, there is no darkness. No shadows. Only light."

     "And there always will be." assured Thom. "Maker knows. There always will be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Me: "So what do you think?"
> 
> Varric: "Well...it's certainly detailed...but I like it."
> 
> Sera: "I like it too."
> 
> Me: "and Cassandra disapproves?"
> 
> Cass: "Cassandra greatly disapproves!...You killed me!"
> 
> Me: "But you died a hero..."
> 
> Cass: "It doesn't make me like you, Author.")


End file.
